


The Crêpes of Wrath

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Series: Afternoon Tea with Prince Lotor [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Season 6 reality where someone actually gets him, Alternate reality Lotor is sweet and vanilla, But when I say Justice for Lotor, Canon Lotor is vanilla divergent, F/M, It’s justice in every reality, Justice for Lotor, Redemption for Lotor, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 21,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: She’s going to save that obtuse, sodden-witted, stuffed-cloak bag of a goat-herding scullion named Lotor and it’s going to be the fight of her life.  He will not be beyond redemption, even if it will cost her everything.





	1. Avant-garde

**Author's Note:**

> “Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief  
> Convert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it.” - Shakespeare, Macbeth

After summoning the paladins to central command, Lotor is making preparations for alchemical infusions in the hangar when he is suddenly grabbed from behind and thrown against the wall. The perpetrator has thrust his arm behind him in a death grip and says viciously, “Palen-bol*, motherfucker. The year is 1786 and one of the most brilliant pharmaceutical scientists at the time, Carl Scheele, succumbs to protracted exposure to mercury and other heavy metals. Why am I telling you this, you palaeolithic primate?”

“What in the name of Daibazaal... Nymuë, is that you?”

“Wrong answer, you cretaceous cur.” She twists his arm acutely to elicit more pain. 

“The year is 1934 and Marie Curie dies from overexposure to ionizing radiation even though her life’s research revolutionized work in radioactive isotopes and radiography. What’s the relevance, you goat-herding Neanderthal?”

“Are you seriously imitating my... agh!” She stomps on his leg behind his knee and makes him drop to his knees. 

“The fucking year is 1956 and Claire B. Patterson has just published his pioneering work on radiometric dating for which he had to fucking invent a clean room to prevent lead contamination. Why the fuck am I asking you?” She pulls his hair back.

“Ow.” Lotor pauses. She pulls harder. “Alright, alright... you are concerned about overexposure to quintessence.”

“What else, you poky quaffer?”

“We need to take precautions to prevent the same corruption as Zarkon suffered.”

“Not good enough. What kind of sorry excuse for an intellectual are you?”

“More research is needed to procure such equipment.”

“And when were you going to do that? Were you just going to jump willy nilly, pell mell, tumble-bumble, into the quintessence field in your existing suit? Were you going to allow Allura to do the same?”

“I... hadn’t thought about that.”

“The fuck you didn’t.” Nymuë releases him but not before she gives him a shove. “If you are ever so careless with your own life or the lives of others again, I will make you feel pain in this and every other reality.”

 

Lotor was shocked. He hadn’t ever seen this side of her before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Don’t know how to spell it, but frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn
> 
> Fucking alternate reality season 6 starts fucking now.
> 
> Lotor doesn’t realize the phrase “pell mell tumble bumble” is taken from a children’s book, The Poky Little Puppy. The implication was he was childishly insouciant with his obligations.


	2. Volte-face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the storm, even so the wise are not affected by praise or blame.”  
> \- The Buddha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volte-face: a reversal in policy, about-face  
> -MW

“Nymuë, I have never witnessed that level of fury from you before. Are you alright?” Lotor asks when he reconvenes with her later in the day.

“No, I’m not. You are so focused on reaching your goal that you have lost sight of the immense responsibility that you carry. I broke my own mandate to first do no harm because of your heedlessness. Do you understand the peril we face if someone of your power becomes corrupted? Fuck’s sake, do you even know the mechanism of corruption or how to prevent it?”

“I cannot give an affirmative answer.” 

“I actually have a hypothesis about it, but I lack evidence to support it. Come sit with me.” Lotor hesitantly sits beside her and remains tentative. She was clearly angry, but remained lucid and considerate despite it, he noticed. “Do you know how cancers work?”

“I have a vague idea.”

“A malignancy must be able to break off, travel, seed into a new location and compel the growth of blood vessels to feed it. In the same way, a shock of pure life energy will latch onto any darkness that is in your heart, feed it and compel its growth. Some of us may have more darkness than others, and are therefore more susceptible, but I do not believe any of us are totally devoid of it.”

“If that is true, is there no way to harvest it when we are so close to attaining our goal?”

“Of course, there is, what is with that sophistic reasoning? You will need to develop a clean room and clean technique that will allow handling of pure quintessence. You will also need to pilot the ship by AI if the risks are too great for living pilots or develop protective suits. And if this can’t be achieved quickly enough to seduce the splintering factions in the empire, then fucking think outside your vacuous, inane, fatuous box and find another way. GOD.”

“You are cross with me.”

“Yeah, motherfucker.”

“Will you tell me why?”

“There are animals on earth descended from very ancient creatures who possess a very unique type of blood. Because their circulatory systems are open to the surrounding environment, their blood is highly valued for its unparalleled amoebocyte defences. It is thousands of times more sensitive to bacterial detection than regular blood and they are harvested for 30% of their blood at a time. An estimated 10-30% of horseshoe crabs die in the process. What the fuck aren’t you telling me, asshole?” She seethes as she grabs him by the collar.

Lotor freezes and turns pale. There was literally nothing he could hide from her. “How did you obtain that information?”

“In case you forgot, you addlepated egg, I’m the one asking the fucking questions.”

“I don’t kill them, Nymuë. I only take enough so they can still live. After what happened to Nueh, I wouldn’t take innocent lives in such a manner.”

“Do you have their consent?”

He swallows a lump. “No.”

“How many of them die anyway?”

A long pause. “About 5%.”

“What the fuck are you going to do about it, now that you’re a life giver?”

“I will immediately cease all extraction and find an alternate way.”

“Not good enough, motherfucker.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do I have to spell everything out for you? You are going to atone for your moral iniquity by using your gift to fucking heal every single one of them. Even if it kills you. Now get out and don’t speak to me again until that is done.”


	3. Tête-à-tête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.”  
> ― Mineko Iwasaki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tête-à-tête: a private conversation between two persons  
> -MW

Nymuë doesn’t need to see the fear and devastation on his face as he walks away from her.

“Wait,” she says in a gentler tone. “I was too harsh.”

There is a long pause. “I had always thought it an acceptable compromise to sacrifice a few to save many,” he says without turning around. “I truly had wanted to bring peace and prosperity with minimal casualties.”

“Because the central tenet of Galra orthodoxy has always been pure consequentialism. The end justifies the means,” she finishes. He hears her sigh deeply. “I know you didn’t have the luxury of learning other moral philosophies and have been subject to ceaseless indoctrination.”

“The first time I ever heard every life carried an intrinsic worth was when you pleaded on behalf of mine. I cannot make amends for what I have done, for all the people I have killed.” The heaviness he feels on his chest starts to restrict his breathing. “You have every right to be livid with me.” He braced himself for the inevitable rejection that always came with failure. “I understand if you feel you cannot...” she suddenly encircles his waist and holds him tightly.

“...allow you to do this alone.” He sharply inhales and she feels him tense. “You know, research shows that babies are born with an inherent sense of fairness, justice and empathy. However, studies also show that those qualities can be hewn to high ethical standards or whittled to base depravity depending on one’s environment. I will help you find the moral compass you were never given.” 

Lotor silently bows his head and grips her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nymuë purposely showed him the temporal nature of her righteous indignation followed by the constancy of her love. She stripped of him of his pride, forced him to his knees, (literally and figuratively) and showed him the egregious infringement upon a person’s right to life that he was committing. Then she would help him to stand again and move forward.
> 
> Lotor has always used his guile to suavely talk his way out of a situation. He understands that won’t work with Nymuë.


	4. Le Mot Juste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”  
> ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le mot juste: exactly the right word or phrasing (at the right time)  
> -MW

Lotor was reluctant to do more than sit at the edge of the bed that night because he knew he was going to sleep on the couch, or possibly on the floor after this confession. “Listen, Nymuë, I need to tell you something. I have not been completely honest and I would not be surprised if you knew already.”

“I’m listening.”

“My mendacity did not stop with acquiring the comet. I needed Allura’s help to access Oriande and therefore saved all of your lives to accomplish this. I used all of you to attain my own goals. You must believe me, however, when I say I did not anticipate meeting you or... learning as much as I have because of you. My love for you is true.”

She smiles and smacks him on the shoulder. “Your governess mercilessly and brutally instilled in you the precepts of the art of war, did she not? I am also familiar with such principles, you oafish purveyor of duplicity. Does this sound familiar? ‘All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.’ Or what about this? ‘Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment — that which they cannot anticipate.’ You’ve been taught deception can mean the difference between victory or defeat. It’s exactly what I would have done. Fuck’s sake, you know what the fuck I just quoted? It’s literally called ‘The Art of War.’

“Oh. But your colleagues despise lies.” She saw the confusion across his face.

“Yeah, well those crispy-witted fustilarians need to go read a book. Like the Very Hungry Caterpillar. Morality has a lot of grey areas, Lotor. A lie, in and of itself, is not necessarily bad. It depends on why you are lying and what you achieve as a result. You can lie to save a life, for example. Honestly, if I had been taught that the end result justifies my methods, fuck yeah, I’d be lying all the damn time. You can lie, without being a liar.” She takes his hand. “I stand by my words, love. You are trustworthy. You just need to see it, seize it, and finally, live it.”

He breathes a sigh and holds her hand tighter. “I am not certain I deserve you.”

“Good thing our relationship isn’t a meritocracy, then.” She smacks him again. “No, I kid, I’m joking. No, love, you deserve more than I can give. Now stop sitting over there like you’re afraid of me and make love to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A similar joke about the Very Hungry Caterpillar is made in ‘One Day’ by David Nichols. It remains one of Nymuë’s favourite roasts of all time.


	5. A Few Good Mots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.”  
> \- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mots: ‘words’ in French, pronounced ‘moh’

“Nymuë, would you care to assist me? I must deliver this address to the populace and I wonder if you could look it over.”

“Sure, when do you have to deliver it?”

“In approximately one varga.”

Nymuë closes her eyes and runs her hand down her face. “Motherfucker, tell me you are kidding,” she groans.

“No, why?”

“Do you want me to be nice or can you handle the truth?”

“I can handle the truth, Nymuë,” he chuckles.

“Slack-lining Christ on a flaming pink unicycle, don’t leave it to the last minute! Let me tell you something, one of the most charismatic and successful dictators of all time stayed up all night writing his speeches. He revised and rehearsed them ad nauseum. You know what he managed to do? He convinced his people to murder millions of innocent people.” She sighs deeply and throws his address up on a screen. 

Galra brothers and sisters, I am your emperor, Lotor son and successor of Zarkon. Slayer of a tyrant, child raised in the void and taught on the battlefield. There are rumours of doubt regarding my leadership. Do not let them poison your ears. Pledge loyalty to me and I will deliver the empire unto times of untold prosperity, an age of unlimited quintessence the likes of which the universe has never known. Soon I will raise our grand empire above the indigence and violence of its past up to new heights of peace and limitless possibility. Those factions that have splintered off from the empire will pay for their treachery. I urge you now, send me your messages of fealty. Those who choose to turn their backs on their emperor will find themselves lost to the sands of history, unremembered and unmourned.

“First of all, who are you talking to? Nobility? Aristocracy? Or the bourgeoisie? Of course, it’s the middle class... so lose the big words. Indigence? Who the fuck knows what that means? Replace it with ‘poverty.’

“Secondly, too many words, darling. Gobble, gobble, gobble. Keep it simple, short, and sweet. People will stop listening after 30 seconds. You need a succinct speech and short slogan that will stay with them when the rest is forgotten. The five most persuasive words in the English language are ‘you, new, because, instant, and free.’ You haven’t used any of them.

“Thirdly, if you say absolutely anything that the audience knows is not true, you’ve lost them. That whole bit about the sand... chuck it into the quantum abyss. Fear-based oppression doesn’t work as well as a rallying cry that will unite them. 

“Finally, you are still talking to the Galra who respect strength above all else. I heard you practicing. NOT CHARISMATIC ENOUGH. They need to hear power in your voice. You fucking tell them who the fuck is in charge not by your words, but with your eyes, your hands, your posture and your voice. Seduce them. Make them want you. Make them worship you.” 

She works quickly and fluidly, crossing out and rewriting entire sections.

“Brothers and sisters is too binary and too familial. Command authority, not familiarity. Lists of three are excellent but the second sentence has faulty parallelism. Bye-bye shit about the rumours. Ever heard of argumentum ad nauseam? If you repeat a lie often enough, people will believe it. Your opposition will use that phrase against you. Use the previous phrase to impress upon them the strength of your leadership. We are going to use a few of the 5 persuasive words, cut it down, use some beautiful alliteration. Now we are going to use the ad nauseum technique to our advantage. Repetition is key. Repeat it until they believe it. Give it in the form of an imperative, not a suggestion. Get rid of the peace and possibility part, it’s redundant and too intangible. Now, deliver the crushing blow, the coup de main. The baseness of treachery needs some powerful imagery to shock them away from Sendak’s seduction, not bore them to death empty threats.” Nymuë paces around for a bit, lost in thought. Lotor watched her in awe. 

“Fuck yeah, I found it. What do you think, bitch?”

Fellow Galra citizens, I address you now as your emperor: Lotor, son and successor of Zarkon, slayer of tyranny, child conqueror of the void, and master of warfare. Pledge loyalty to me and you will see a new empire of untold prosperity. Pledge allegiance to me and you will know an unprecedented age of unlimited quintessence. Pledge fealty to me and you will experience this grand empire rise above the violence and poverty of ages past. Stand firm against the foul rot of treachery that saps your strength and leeches your honor. Send me your oaths now, and together, we will prevail!

“I have to admit, Nymuë, this version is much more compelling.”

“No, it’s not yet. Delivery is everything. Presence is everything. Live it. Breathe it. Become it.”

With 45 minutes left, she makes him practice it repeatedly, correcting his emphases, his posture, his body language and his delivery. They do not immediately see the fruits of their labour, but large swaths of fence-sitters were persuaded by the commanding presence of their new emperor. Shortly thereafter, Lotor will allow Nymuë to play chess with Sendak.


	6. Saving Quiet Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.”  
> ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“There are factions here, here and here that have splintered off from the empire. We must contain this civil war before it gets out of hand,” says Lotor to his commanders and Nymuë. 

“Can anyone tell me what the supreme excellence in the art of war is?” She asks. 

“It involves crushing the enemy’s resistance without resorting to battle,” replies Lotor with a smile.

“Do you guys use propaganda out here?”

“We are unfamiliar with that technique,” states one of the commanders. 

“Get a load of these pictures, then.” She displays several pictures she has taken of Sendak. “Aw, look, isn’t he cute in Altean prison. Here he is failing on Arus. Oh, and look how adorable he is flat on his face at the Kral Zera. Who’s a mewling, milk-livered ratsbane? You are, yes you are.” she says in mocking motherese. 

There is general laughter in the room. “I will launch a smear campaign against him. We will show these pictures all around the empire, 24/7 with cleverly degrading slogans. We will hammer away at his support base and bring distrust and uncertainty in their minds. It would also be prudent to infiltrate his camps with informants of our own, soldiers who personally plant seeds of doubt and sow discord among his troops. Persuasion is greater than force. And when they are FUBAR at their weakest in division and disunity, that is our opportunity to strike.”

“That actually sounds like a good idea.” There is general agreement in the room. They could truly appreciate now why Lotor had chosen her as an advisor. “What’s FUBAR?” 

“Fucked up beyond all recognition. That is only half of it,” she says. She then brings up beautifully edited photos of Lotor’s successes. “Most people were not at these events. Aw, look, here he is lighting the flame with Voltron behind him. Isn’t he cute? No, actually, motherfuckers, he’s omnipotent and that’s what we are going to show to the empire.”

“Where did you obtain those pictures?” asks Lotor as he looks at her with admiration.

“I plan ahead, motherfucker,” she says as she waves around her phone. 

It is at this moment that they receive a distress call from a labour planet under attack by Sendak. 

As the paladins arrive and receive a debriefing, Lotor gives them the green light to intervene. Having learned that every individual in his empire has a right to life, he doesn’t hesitate. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Nymuë says as she sees them depart. “What is your plan? Although I’ve recently painted Sendak as a beslubbering, flap-mouthed barnacle, we all know he’s not incompetent.”

“Shoot’em til he flees or drops to his knees! Yeah!” cries Lance. 

“You all knew he was going to strike after Lotor’s speech, right?” Everyone looked either at the floor or the ceiling but not directly at her. “If Voltron charges in roly-poly, just like Zarkon knew where to hit us where it hurts, Sendak also knows we value each other’s lives. You must anticipate how he will strike. Tell me what his next move will be.” 

“He will strike at the weakest link. Most likely the omega shield to endanger the entire planet,” says Lotor without difficulty.

“At that point, the battle will be his. We must strike first with the element of surprise. I’ve already readied two battle cruisers. They will provide a distraction while Voltron moves in under cloaking.”

“But I need a co-pilot to operate the cloaking,” says Pidge reluctantly.

Nymuë puts on her helmet. “I can do it. I’ve anticipated this from the beginning. Let’s go. Commanders Ashok and Korvak, come with me and ready your commands. I will direct all of you with our plan en route.”

After they depart, governess Dayak says to Lotor, “In addition to what we just witnessed, I was also privy to the revisions she made to your speech, Lotor. I do not know what she sees in you. She surpasses you in every way.”


	7. Mea Culpa Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mea culpa: a formal acknowledgment of personal fault or error  
> -MW

Nymuë and Lotor head to the training deck as per their usual early morning routine but she stops him before they enter. He had been unusually dominating the night before, even rousing her from sleep to satisfy his desire. She hadn’t known what Dayak had said to him, or the subsequent conflict and insecurity he had experienced as a result, but she knew enough to understand how they had to proceed. 

“We are going to do things a little differently today,” she says with a gentle smile. 

As they enter the arena, she says, “I still see darkness in your eyes. Today’s purpose is not just to nullify it, but to purify it. Now, what is it that makes you angry?”

“I am not angry, Nymuë.”

She bows to him and assumes first stance. “The blood that runs through your veins...” she starts as she sees him become tense, “which part of it makes you weak?” She sees the spite and rage in his eyes. “Now, attack me.” Lotor did attack with greater force than he had done previously; he was swifter, stronger, and almost savage this time. The more he assailed her, the angrier he became. 

“Why aren’t you striking back?” He growled. It took every ounce of her strength to keep up with him but he still overwhelmed her. She had fallen to the floor before he realized that he had hurt her. “Every deflection is an act of compassion that receives and cleanses your rage. It’s time to let go of your hatred.”

He bends down to pick her up. “I’m sorry that I have hurt you.”

“No, I wanted you to do so, so you can be free. Part of eastern philosophy teaches that ignorance leads to anger which leads to aggression. It is not the Galra blood in you that makes you strong. But neither is it the Altean blood.”

He looked at her in surprise at this statement. 

“Blood is merely a carrier of nutrients, oxygen, hormones, and immunity to your cells. Nothing more, nothing less. By their cockered, fool-born stupidity, you were always wrongfully disparaged. If blood could confer strength or weakness, then my strength is that my blood type makes me a universal donor and can save lives. My weakness is that mosquitos really like it. See, silly, right? They keep underestimating you. You are strong because of who you are, love, as an individual. Now, let’s go again.” 

With each strike and subsequent diversion of energy, he started to realize that he had been overcompensating for the endless denigration by revering his slandered ancestry. The balance within himself had been toppled as a result, causing chaos and confusion. With each thrust and subsequent parry, he also discovered that Nymuë was restoring harmony to him, quieting his turmoil and subduing his rage. Her fire had never burned more brightly than today. It wasn’t pain or combat that sears away impurity as he had been taught. It was love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She says motherfucker so often the Pulp Fiction pun had to be done.


	8. Ad Hoc to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more.  
> \- Batman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ad hoc: for the particular end or case at hand without consideration of wider application  
> -MW

At the end of their sparring session, Lotor sat down and gazed unfocused into the distance. The fortress he had built around himself for so many ages, the one place of refuge he had clung to was suddenly on shaky ground. He wasn’t ready to let go of it. His Altean ancestry had to be a strength because it was superior. If it wasn’t, then everything he had done up until now was pointless. 

Nymuë knew about cognitive dissonance and the backfire effect, so she understood the internal conflict he was experiencing. She wordlessly sits down beside him and ties a woven red bracelet around his left wrist. 

“I once said that love is a rope comprised of many strings.” She shows him the eight strands within. “Until you resolve the conflict within, this represents compassion, mercy, forgiveness, contentment, selflessness, patience, hope and trust. Allow virtue to restrain aggression. It is made of string that is fragile and impermanent because these virtues are already inside you. The day you claim them is the day this wristlet can fall away.”

The flood of emotions he felt then rendered him speechless. He pulled her close and kissed her furiously. As he was pulling her uniform down past her shoulder, he noticed multiple bruises and welts in various stages of healing on her skin. He hadn’t seen them before probably because of her tattoos. He fully removes her top and to his horror, discovers injuries all over her. He immediately breaks apart from her to ask, “Nymuë, what happened to you? Who is hurting you? Why have you not told me? I am the emperor absolute, I will ensure they never...”

She kisses him to stop him from talking. “After you told me you were an oppressive tyrant in training, subject to strict and brutal discipline, I figured you must have had a governess. I even told Lance about her to convince him to come to our tea party. I sought her out the first day we arrived and have been learning from her everyday. I wouldn’t have known your history and language as well as I did during that first meeting with the commanders had I not.”

Lotor held her close to him for a long time. Nymuë truly was love incarnate. She didn’t see his eyes moisten for the first time in many, many ages.


	9. Attrition Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never gonna give you up  
> Never gonna let you down  
> Never gonna run around and desert you  
> Never gonna make you cry  
> Never gonna say goodbye  
> Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
> 
> -Batman

Running concurrently with the Monsters and Mana gaming session on the Castle of Lions was a Realm of Warcraft in the situation room at Central Command. Nymuë and Lotor had called to order a meeting for Operation B is for Barnacle, a real-time dismantling of rebel factions. 

With difficulty surmounting the challenges of developing quintessence impermeable suits, Lotor resigned himself to thinking outside his vacuous box. He had been distracted lately and not performing to his full faculty. The civil war so insidiously petted and stroked the fears he had always sought to bury: that he was weak. To top it off, his governess took the contract he had with weakness and ratified it with that gut-punch yesterday. How Nymuë knew to affirm him in the way she did this morning was anyone’s guess. She acknowledged what he himself could not recognize, ripped up that contract, and restored him unto himself. He still felt conflicted but as he looked at her, the harmony he felt with her galvanized him. He initiated the caucus with vigour. 

Lotor begins, “Fellow officials, we will begin laying the groundwork to quell the insurgents immediately. As we know, Sendak was an unquestioning devotee of my late father, well-versed in psychological warfare and military tactics. He is not to be underestimated. We have fleets on standby to assist his likeliest targets, as per intelligence reports. As we have seen by his attack yesterday,” he continues, “he is susceptible to provocation and we will use it to our advantage.”

“We also know that Sendak is a creature of habit,” says Nymuë. “I’ve studied his tactics and as brutal and well-calculated as they are, he is also predictable. He will not hesitate to sacrifice his men to triumph. His so called strength is also his weakness. And we will exploit it unto victory.”

“Sendarillon base, initiate Operation B,” Lotor commands.

“Vrepit Sa,” came the immediate reply. 

A transmission is sent out from the base saying, ‘We are loyal to the empire. Sendak is weak,’ with a compromising picture of him armless and entrapped. 

Within several dobashes, an enemy fleet appears at their doorstep with Sendak proclaiming any allegiance to Lotor will be destroyed. The fleet is quickly neutralized by an ambush hidden by an orbiting moon. 

Nymuë sends her response in real-time with snap shots of his destroyed fleet from yesterday. “Hey Liars of Lacrimation, we wasted you yesterday. Cry me a river, you yeasty noobs.” She populates the response to the entire empire. 

“We grow stronger in numbers daily and will wipe clean and purify the cancer that infects this empire.”

“Like this malignant clusterfuckoma that is your face?” She sends out a photo of him unconscious in a cryopod and pours on her French accent. “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”

The council was in hysterics. Even Lotor couldn’t stop laughing. 

He had to try really hard to compose himself enough to say, “Marselak base, initiate Operation B.”

“Vrepit sa, my Lord.” Nymuë immediately sent them a script.

“We pledge allegiance to emperor Lotor and not to the pasty, pee weasel Sendak.” They also reply with a photo of him fleeing the Kral Zera. Nymuë broadcasts it again to the empire. 

At this point, Sendak was outrageously mad. He had been insulted and his fleet was falling apart at the seams. Nymuë and Lotor were not certain he would take the bait but to their surprise, he bit. 

“You will cease all hostilities or I will destroy what is left of your darling base,” is the transmission they receive after a several dobashes. Nymuë gives Commander Korvak a nod.

“What, have you done, Sendak?” he says as he feigns distress. 

“Exactly, what I have intended to do.”

At that moment, Sendak’s fleet is pulverized by multiple ion cannons. 

“And I have done your mother; she keeps asking for me,” Korvak deadpans. 

There was a second of shocked silence before uproarious and wild laughter. Nymuë sends the live feed to the empire with uploaded footage of his recent defeats.


	10. Suborn Supremacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is an expression of pain  
> \- Latin proverb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suborn: to induce secretly to do an unlawful thing  
> -MW

“Liar of Lacrimation! I see what you did with Fire of Purification...” Lotor could barely breathe, “and then cry me a river!” He was doubled over in laughter long after the meeting was adjourned. 

Nymuë was unimpressed. “Come on, it wasn’t even that funny.” 

“I have never laughed like this,” he sighs.

She remains stoic while recalling his reaction to her fractal joke. “Well, Sendak’s bloated, blubbering failures are reaching critical mass.” Lotor can’t stifle his chuckles. “One could say he’s fission for trouble.” Now he’s laughing out loud. “His nuclear dumbfuckery is going to blow up in his face.”

“Stop, Nymuë, I can’t breathe.”

“Those are the stupidest nerd jokes I’ve ever told! Christ in a billabong, I can’t believe you love dad-jokes.” She says in a softer tone as she takes his hand, “but I’m glad I can make you laugh. You deserve to be happy.” She was filing away the fact that physics jokes and puns are funnier to him than hyperbole or self-effacement, when he turns to look at her for a long time.

Nymuë was becoming slightly perplexed under his scrutiny when he says, “I was on my way to the hangar but there is now a more pressing matter to attend to,” he says. The light in his eyes makes her step back a little.

Nymuë doesn’t know what room he has pulled her into but he is pushing her against the wall and kissing her furiously.

“Lotor, what...”

“Are you going to deny me?”

“No, but...”

“Good, because you are mine.”

As he feverishly claimed her, Nymuë thought he was different, as if he was compensating somehow... wait, compensating... suddenly, she felt an apprehension and an impending doom wash over her. He had her pinned forcefully against the wall. Something was amiss and she was running out of time to figure it out. Not all the pieces were fitting together anymore. Her clothes were on the ground and he was rougher with her this time. Lotor was incredibly intelligent so why was he so urgently finishing his transreality ships to the point of negligence? If he was so keen on bringing peace, why had he been so singularly focused to the point of protracted absence when he temporarily assumed power? She cries out as he bites her. But if he was a life giver now, if was willing to lay down his life for his people, why did she still feel like this? His moans were becoming louder and wilder, almost feral. This was the same feeling she had when she looked at a patient with stable vital signs but knew he was going to crash. Thin-slicing,* she suddenly remembered. She was going straight to the record room after her meeting with Dayak. As he climaxed and gripped her tightly, she realized she was not only playing chess with Sendak, anymore. She was playing chess with Lotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thin-slicing is described in Malcom Gladwell’s book, Blink, as our ability to use limited information from a very narrow period of experience to come to a conclusion.
> 
> Nymuë’s encyclopedic memory and rigorous medical training make her a master thin-slicer. Perhaps even better than the knife-wielding Unilu at the space mall.
> 
> To maintain homeostasis (the delicate balance to maintain life), the body has compensating mechanisms to deal with adverse events. If there is no medical intervention to restore that balance, the patient will eventually decompensate and death will ensue.


	11. Oceans Unseen

While Lotor was occupying himself with the finishing adjustments to his new ship, Nymuë had finished her session with Dayak and was currently in the record room. Why, why was he so focused on finishing his ship? She pored over historical records on the planet that once housed Nueh. To her horror, she discovered how they had been annhilated: Haggar and her druids. She sat down and was bombarded with whispers from the past.

“Combat purifies imperfections.”  
“Purge weakness.”  
“Sacrifice a few to save many.”  
His poems were in Galran and not Altean.  
“They always said it was a weakness but I considered it a strength”  
“Any whisper of happiness is strangled as soon as it begins to take form”  
“I was powerless to stop it.”  
“When I was not strong enough to defend myself.”  
“I have you to protect now.”  
“She’s an abomination.”

The swirling thoughts were moving too quickly to grasp.

Then everything stopped and she found herself inside the eye of the storm: a conversation with him once upon a time.

“Hey, what do you do to quell the fusillades of emptiness and silence?”

“I plot the brutal downfall of anyone who dares to cross me.”

Nymuë gasped. She had had the answer all along. He was seeking the ultimate power to purify the empire and bring peace. Purify his enemies. Purify his pain. She hoped he didn’t know ‘Lotor’ means the cleanser in Latin. Talk about dramatic irony. She immediately ran to the hangar.


	12. The Dolor Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.” - George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dolor: Latin for pain, grief

Whenever Lotor was subject to harsh fustigation in his formative years, he would channel his anger into combat. Stronger, faster, harder became not just a mantra, but a mantle that eventually subsumed his rage and enshrouded his compassion. He discovered that by using the tactics of deception he was taught, by slipping on the cloak of his opponent’s expectations, they would easily bow to his whims. Dayak’s teachings were so painfully seared into him, the onslaught of Galra brutality was so merciless that he stopped giving heed to the soft objections of his conscience. And so he grew from boy to man, in the unforgiving moral wasteland of the Galra empire, soothing his wounds with the intricacies of exacting revenge. He never told Nymuë that the whispers of happiness he had had all taken form as friendships. Nor did he tell her that Zarkon and Haggar took a certain sadistic pleasure in crushing those friendships to eliminate the weakness they ceaselessly accused him of harbouring. 

When he met Nymuë, his tightly wound world of vengeful plotting and secretive forbearance started to unravel. He had lost count of how many wrenches she threw into the machinery of his inner workings. Many of those were exhilarating changes, like the way she made him laugh, or the way she made love to him, or how she loved him without reservation. However, the one change he could never have foreseen was the way she dismantled his safety bunker. It was excruciatingly unsettling for him now to even think, let alone accept that his Altean heritage was not his strength. He had initially been receptive to the balance she had restored to him. But now the flames of anger, rancor, and acridity ignited once more. No, he would not yield. He would crush. Victory or death.

Nymuë was still speechless when he kissed her one last time and took his leave of her. As he walked to the hangar, he reasoned that the right to life did not extend to his enemies, especially not to that witch. Not after all the atrocities she had committed. His ship was almost finished. All of his long-suffering was at an end and his ultimate ambitions were coming to fruition. He looked at the red bracelet. It was a whimsical and naïve gesture, but his heart softened a bit. It was the very fabric of who Nymuë was and it was why he loved her. This was all to protect her and the future generations. It must be done. He would reap the consequences of his decisions later. He had come too far to stop now.


	13. Lady Water and the Half-Blood Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hatred cannot drive out hatred. Only love can do that.’  
> -MLK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argumentum ad hominem:  
> 1) appealing to feelings or prejudices rather than intellect  
> 2) marked by or being an attack on an opponent's character rather than by an answer to the contentions made  
> -MW

Nymuë arrived to an empty hangar. That roguefuck of a scut-brained anemone was going get his ass kicked for not telling her anything. She took a deep breath and summoned a calm to her racing heart. She could not afford to make any mistakes now.

Lotor had been calling Allura to assist with the alchemical changes to his ship while he healed the indisposed Alteans. He found that he did not yet possess the stamina to attend to both. Today, she had finished assisting him with his ship and the first trial runs had been successful. He felt a twinge of guilt for not informing Nymuë but he didn’t think she would allow him to proceed given her previous outburst. He was certain a genuine Altean alchemist would not be as susceptible to corruption as his father was. After all, King Alfor passed through to the field and escaped unscathed. Nymuë’s hypothesis, was just that. An unverified hypothesis. The tantalizing fruits of this long-awaited success perhaps overshadowed the fact that she had an uncanny ability to perceive the truth. Additionally, the new suits he had created were 30% resistant to quintessence and he felt that was more than adequate.

Nymuë calls upon Commander Korvak, “Operation Anemone is a go. I will meet you at your ship.” Her next call is to the paladins. 

“Hey girl, what’s going on?” asks Pidge.

“Where’s Lotor?”

“What? He didn’t tell you? He and Allura are in the quintessence field.”

“No, that mammering fuck-gilled minnow did not tell me. I am already en route to meet you.”

Nymuë and Korvak arrive shortly after Keith and cohort board the Castle of Lions. Nymuë knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth about the concentrated quintessence was discovered but she had not anticipated it would be right at this moment. She had to quickly reformulate all of her plans and proceed carefully. 

“That’s horrible,” gasps Coran.

“He’s a monster,” seethes Keith.

“No, he’s not. And I will tell you why if you will listen,” Nymuë says calmly. 

“Only an animal would murder innocent people like that. You could never understand. No one has taken your family, no one has killed your brother,” Romelle retorts bitterly with tears glistening in her eyes.

Nymuë says quietly, “Haven’t they, though? My family was tortured and burned to death alive, including my three year old brother. I was the only survivor.”

Pidge and Hunk gasp as they hands fly to their mouths. “Nymuë, I didn’t know,” laments Hunk. Romelle also gasps in sorrow and disbelief. 

“They murdered us because they saw us as animals. I spent years training to exact revenge but my adoptive family taught me to be kind to our enemies and to subdue aggression with virtue. I first became a nurse to break the cycle of hatred, prejudice and violence. I saw that murderer again on the brink of death and he still called me an animal. Using the ropes of compassion, mercy and forgiveness to restrain my anger and bitterness, I saved his life and extended the same kindness I treat you with. I implore you all to do the same.”

“There’s no way we can forgive a crime of that caliber! He’s killed hundreds of Alteans!” exclaims Coran.

“I am not asking you to do so right away. But if you cannot, know that you relinquish your right to adjudicate Lotor’s guilt because of all of the people here, Romelle and I are the only ones who have never killed anyone. Every time Voltron blows up a battle cruiser, every time this castle fires upon and destroys a ship, you kill countless lives and are thereby murderers by your own definition.”

“But that’s not the same,” says Keith. “We are fighting a war. If we don’t kill them, they will kill us.”

“Isn’t it though? By which moral code do you judge him then? The laws and constitutions on earth? The Geneva conventions? Altean law? Do you dehumanize him by calling him an animal or a monster so that you can exact revenge without feeling guilty? Do you disagree that hard sacrifices must be made during war? How is it different than conscripting soldiers against their will and sending them to die on the front lines? If he is to be judged, he must be judged by Galra standards because that is the only morality he has known. Where the weak are left to die and the strongest rise to power. Where the end result justifies the means, no matter how deadly or brutal. By those standards, friends, he is not only exonerated, but morally upright for saving millions more who are weaker than he is.”

“I just can’t forgive him,” sobs Romelle with tears flowing heavily. “He took my family, everything that I held dear.” Nymuë holds her in am embrace. 

“I know the pain you feel in your heart so well that I call her by name. Did you know Lotor adopted a little girl as a sister once? His own father ordered her execution by annihilating her planet. He has spent centuries plotting to overthrow Zarkon and bring peace again. The only way he could do it, or at least, the only way he knew how was to do what he did. He has suffered the same pain we have but he never had a loving family to show him how to restrain his aggression with the virtue I see so clearly in him. He has only known pain, condemnation, fear, and punishment.”

“But that still doesn’t change the fact that he murdered countless innocent people. The Alteans he knew were peaceful. Why didn’t he adopt their morality?” Keith spat through his teeth. “I’m Galra. I don’t go around murdering innocent people.”

“If I told you that 2+2=5 and tortured you until you said it was, then you would believe it too. How many of you have completed Dayak’s training? Hunk?”

“No, there was no way I was gonna do that.”

Nymuë strips off her uniform down to her camisole and shows them the burns and scars she has on her. There were more gasps of horror and disbelief. “I’ve completed it. She tortured me until I could recite all the precepts of Galra doctrine. It was so painful I almost believed it. Just to make the pain stop. You haven’t bothered to understand how he grew up so now cast ignorant aspersions and sanctimonious vilification from your high horses of fluffy peace-loving societies. He was just a child when he underwent that indoctrination. The scientifically inclined among you will appreciate the consequences of massive releases of cortisol on the malleable brain of a child and the psychological effects of abuse, neglect and manipulation. The others of you should subscribe to a science publication and read a book. Maybe you can judge him when you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. He believes that the end justifies the means. At least he did until he met me, so now he’s slowly learning that 2+2 =4 and has started healing those he has harmed. So if you still intend on taking him down before you give him a chance to defend and redeem himself, at all costs, you must not forget that darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hatred cannot drive out hatred. Only love can do that.’” Nymuë looks to Pidge. “Your failsafe, her name is Veritas. Call upon her if...”

It is at this moment that Allura and Lotor have returned to a rather hostile reception. Despite Nymuë’s measured and cogent moral arguments on behalf of Lotor, alas, anger inhibited higher cognitive functioning and she had been unable to completely breech those barriers. She was fully aware of this.

“What’s going on here?” cries Allura.

“Lotor’s been lying to us, he’s been killing Alteans by harvesting their quintessence,” declares Keith.

Nymuë catches Lotor’s glance and facepalms. “Jesus fucking Christ, read a book after this is done.”

“Books won’t change the fact that he has been lying to all of us and murdering people,” says Keith.

“All war is deception. He accurately predicted our reception of his methods and circumvented it by duplicity.”

“That’s called manipulation,” he retorts. 

“Actually, in the current circumstances, it’s called the art of war which you would know if you read a book,” she says with exasperation. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you? And it’s your love that has blinded you!” seethes Allura. 

Nymuë rubs her temples. “Fuck’s sake, I was wondering when you’d break out the ad hominems. Strike one.” She then looks Allura directly in the eye. “Infatuation is the boat drifting blindly on the swells of desire until it is broken by stormy seas. Love is the anchor that sees clearly its tethered companion and holds fast even unto death. Both of which are irrelevant, by the way, and reveal a faulty logic blown about by bias.”

“I loved him too but it hasn’t prevented me from seeing that he’s just like his father.” Normally, those words would have driven Lotor mad but something protected him from that blow. The current tension, however, was too great to stop and determine its origin.

“That’s another ad hominem. Strike two. Ethnocentrism dilutes your love, as does your racism. Lotor is nothing like his father,” says Nymuë. Lotor sharply inhales. Nymuë’s love was both sword and shield. 

“How dare you? If you are defending him, you are a murderer just like him,” she cries. Nymuë had thrust a white-hot iron into Allura’s heart. They both knew she only felt attracted to him after she discovered he was Altean, but condemned his Galra heritage whenever it was convenient.

“And the final ad hominem, strike three, you’re out. Might want to pick up a book on logical arguments, next time,” she says with venom. Nymuë knew Allura was beyond reason. “They don’t say the pen is mightier than the sword just so Sean Connery can call it the penis mightier on Saturday Night Live.”

Lotor moves to touch Allura’s shoulder. “You know not of what you speak, Allura. I have dedicated my life to saving the Altean people and preserving our culture. I cannot atone for what I have done, but I can henceforth...”

Allura hurls him across the room. “No, you can’t atone for what you have done.”

The red wristlet lay torn on the ground, ripped away from its owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay off the quintessence, kids.


	14. The Girl with the Phoenix Tattoo

“NO!” she cried. Her reasoning should have stopped her from moving. She had to be able to protect him. But her body moved on its own accord. Nymuë took the brunt of Lotor’s fall; although he still hit his head and was knocked unconscious, she had managed to mitigate much of the damage. 

As Shiro quickly incapacitated the paladins, Nymuë freed herself from underneath Lotor and moved to guard him. 

The adrenalin coursing through her body had blunted the pain of her injuries and Shiro could not land a single hand strike on her; all of her years of conditioning to evade and protect culminated in this crucial confrontation. Her aggressor then swapped to his sword, but now, he was at a slight disadvantage to Nymuë’s left-handed swordplay. She had spent years sparring with right-handed swordsmen, but the latter often have no experience with left-handed opponents. Unfortunately, her stamina and strength could not compete with those of the Champion and finally, he pummelled her. His unhinged rage at her defiance manifested in multiple life-threatening injuries to her.

She had delayed Shiro long enough for Lotor to wake up. As he opened his eyes to see her beaten and bloody, she accomplished her mission. “Lotor,” she whispered, “her name Veritas... sheath ...y ... sword.” It was all he heard before Shiro knocked him unconscious again. 

Nymuë felt cold and her vision was becoming blurry. The pleuritic pain that choked her breathing and the sharp, excruciating headache did not bode well for her. It was at this moment that Commander Korvak came running to her side. “Nymuë, you’re badly injured. What can I do?”

“Hemothorax ...skull fracture,” was all she could manage before she passed out. She could only hope that she had played all her pieces right; it was up to everyone else now.


	15. Love Factually

The team had slowly come around after being battered by Shiro. Lance and Hunk were sickened to find Nymuë lying in a growing pool of blood but Korvak waved them off. 

“You must focus on your duties. I will attend to her. Krolia, Romelle, I need your assistance. The regenerative pods are useless to us if we can’t stabilize her enough to get her there. We must first secure her airway immediately.”

Lance takes one more troubled glance back at her before he leaves. He saw how ferociously she fought to protect Lotor even when she had already been injured. 

As the paladins rush to their lions to pursue their flagrant attackers, Korvak worked feverishly to stabilize his charge. Krolia was amazed at his medical knowledge while Romelle wordlessly obeyed his directions. It was stunning to her that a Galra Commander was rushing to save the life of a non-Galra. She had been told they were her enemies all her life. After they managed to transport Nymuë to a regenerative pod, she summons the courage to ask the question that was plaguing her. 

“Commander Korvak, why did you save her? I thought the Galra let the weak die.”

He sighed deeply. “We used to do that and I fully believed those lies until I met these two. Emperor Lotor values our lives more so than Emperor Zarkon ever did. We are not mere pawns to him. He treats us like individuals. Nymuë possesses more kindness than the entirety of the empire combined and taught me each life has intrinsic value. And... I’m probably not supposed to know this but he loves her. I couldn’t let her die.”

All of Nymuë’s words suddenly crashed down upon her as she looked at the comatose girl in the pod. Romelle suddenly stands up. “Krolia, we must contact the paladins. Please, this is of utmost importance.”

As they rush to the bridge, they discover that most of the team has already returned. Things quickly turn sour with the particularly aggressive systems virus and as the team scrambles to enact countermeasures, a silent plea is temporarily forgotten. The complete loss of energy necessitates that Korvak and Romelle return to Nymuë and manually maintain stabilization. Romelle never gets the chance to voice her appeal before the paladins depart again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pokémon wolf never leaves Nymue’s side.


	16. Escape of Water

When Lotor had regained consciousness, his head throbbed and he discovered his arms were shackled. So the witch was making her move. He was already one step ahead of her and could proceed unhindered with his plans. His head was still foggy but there lingered a deep misgiving about something he couldn’t quite remember. 

The experience in the quintessence field was matchless. The flux of life energy flowing through him empowered his body and heightened his senses. He had not succumbed to its corruption, just as he had predicted. Such power was, indeed, intoxicating but he was not captive to it. Unbeknownst to him, however, the bewitching desire to wield it and crush his enemies underfoot would have a latent release, not unlike the insidious transformation of a benign to a malignant tumour. 

Its incubation was accelerated when he met Haggar. The mere sight of her recovered Altean features and the mere mention of her claim as his mother flooded him with darkness. His calm and calculating demeanour buckled under a deluge of entrenched rage that shook his being. By the time he had re-enlisted his generals and made his way toward the remains of Daibazaal, Nymuë had been forgotten. 

As the paladins awaited Keith’s arrival, Allura was undergoing a struggle of her own. The bitterness of war and of devastating loss had left her heart broken and scarred; she too, carried a residual anger that ebbed and flowed with the tides of circumstance. Entering the quintessence field also compelled the small swelling of dark pools in her heart. The pique she felt at Nymuë’s blasted, quiznacking contrivances was uncharacteristic of her. And so the crackling animosity between them submerged her restraint and she hurled Lotor across the room. Nothing anyone said could ever absolve the absolute guilt of severing Altean lives. 

Such was the brewing of a perfect storm.


	17. Kill Pill

“Ezor, Zethrid, my deepest apologies for lying to you. To gain the trust of the coalition, it was a necessary ruse. We now stand at the glorious precipice of a new era of power.” While his generals responded with a tepid loyalty, shadows snaked around his heart and mind, seducing him with promises of completion, control, and conquest. 

Meanwhile, confusion and disarray plagued the paladins as they readied themselves for an inevitable confrontation. Nymuë’s grounded defence of Lotor had struck home for Hunk, Pidge, and Lance. They had remained silent during the tense standoff and now were uncertain they could summon the means to attack their friend. Neither could they betray their team, however, so their resolve remained tentative. Indecision finally yielded to resignation, and the inter-reality gate was destroyed. 

As Lotor’s ships approach, he extends an olive branch. “I know what you all must think of me, and I cannot undo the past but we can henceforth work together to change the future. We need not fight today, as we are all on the same side.” 

“How many did you take, how many!? How can we ever trust you?” shrieks Allura.

“It’s true. I have sacrificed lives in a bid to bring peace to the universe. You must understand the difficult decisions that are the reality of war. They do not change the fact that we are on the same side.”

“No, we’re not!” she yells as she fires her lion. The darkened waters inside her had burst over their levees.

“No, wait, Allura!” cries Pidge.

As Lotor’s generals power their canons, he commands them to hold their fire. His subsequent pleas to his friends only serve to increase the incongruence in some of their hearts. 

“Wait, Allura,” says Lance, “maybe we should hear him out.”

“I’m not listening to anything he has to say. He’s more like his father than I could have ever imagined,” she screams as she discharges her energy beam; Allura has embraced the flash flood within her. 

The razor sharp daggers struck true. Reason fled Lotor’s mind as rage haemorrhaged from his wounds. How capricious. How fickle. Friends do not attack so viciously. The shadows threatened to pull him asunder. Enemies do. 

“And what of your father? He was too weak to save his people so the responsibility fell to me. Who are you to judge my methods? Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, fire at will.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell his generals to destroy them as he might have. The sliver of light left in his heart was tenacious and held fast.

A new surge of bitterness, however, crashed against his already broken shores, and as he spewed words of vitriol and vengeance against all, even his generals abandoned their posts; their leader was becoming too volatile to trust. 

As Lotor assembled his fearsome sincline robot, the paladins could only look on with dread. Their reluctance to fight evaporated with the threat of total annihilation but they were quickly losing ground. With Keith’s expedient arrival and the scales tipped, their battle raged on with an increasingly irrational yet deadly accurate opponent. 

As the mecha giants volleyed blow after blow against each other, Pidge recalled a conversation she had had with Nymuë. 

“When a patient is crashing, the doctor steps back and looks at the big picture. If you are simply reactionary and too focused on the minutia, you may miss a critical diagnosis.”

As Pidge reacted deftly to each attack, she took a deep breath, and figuratively stepped back. She quickly reanalyzed the entire situation and voiced her diagnosis.

“Guys, this isn’t Lotor. He’s been corrupted by the quintessence. We need to help him.”

No one has time to respond as their adversary is now disappearing and reappearing at will. The fight is drawn out but with Keith leading the charge, they gain a critical advantage. As they come to realize Lotor is leaping between realities, all at once, he and his mech are gone. 

Suddenly, a hail from the castle of lions startles them out of their focus. “Stop!” cries Romelle. “You must stop! Allura, I forgive him. You must do so, too. Restrain your aggression and stop the cycle of hatred. Please.”

“He doesn’t deserve forgiveness,” she responds spitefully.

“None of us ever do. That is what mercy is.”

“No, we have to go in after him and take him down,” growled Keith.

“No, Keith,” Krolia says. “Romelle is right. Don’t do this. There is more to Lotor than we see on the surface.”

“He’s a murderer. He killed his own people. I’m not...” Allura is interrupted as Hunk suddenly remembers Nymuë’s words. 

“Sit down, all of you! Are you paladins of Voltron or aren’t you? You should be ashamed you’ve forgotten what you stand for. ‘Le souvenir est porteur de paix et d’unité...’”

“Whoa, Hunk, since when did you have a French mode?” exclaims Pidge.

“Oh well, you know, I try. Anyway, Nymuë gave her life for Lotor. We don’t even know if she’s dead or alive. We need to remember her sacrifice. Only light can drive out darkness. Only love can drive out hate. Lotor is my friend, and I’m not going to give up on him. NOW ARE YOU WITH ME!?!”

Pidge thinks furiously for a moment and everything suddenly clicks. “Guys! There’s a kill switch on Lotor’s mech. Nymuë and I have been working on a failsafe called Project Red Pill and she told me the password in the Castle. I think... Lotor has to say it. His ship is sentient like our Lions and it chose to connect with her when she throttled him in the hangar once. He has to connect with it, too. I’m with you, Hunk.”

Lance went pale at this revelation. “Guys, I saw her fight Shiro until he thrashed her within an inch of her life. She was trying to buy enough time for Lotor to wake up and tell him the code. I’m with you too,” says Lance with conviction. “I won’t give up on a friend. Allura? Keith?”

Allura was suddenly snapped out of her machinations. What the quiznack had she been doing? “You... are all right. I allowed my anger to overcome me and forgot about the kindness I’ve seen in him.”

Keith sighed. They were right. Who knew one person could make such a big difference? “Alright, let’s go get Lotor.”

Voltron’s eye gleams as he slices a hole in the fabric of space-time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gleamity gleam gleam gleam, gleamity gleam*


	18. A Series of Fortunate Events

As the rapid boluses of quintessence extinguished the fulminating cries of his conscience, Lotor discovered too late that he did not possess the necessary resistance to its corruption. It did, indeed, latch onto the centuries of accumulated bitterness, hatred and vengefulness, forcing him to the brink of capitulation. He struck at his former allies with furor. Nymuë’s attempts to cleanse his anger had not nearly been sufficient, and he was plunged into darkness. Nevertheless, the magnitude of her love for him coupled with his resistant suit shone just enough light to give him the wherewithal to hear his friends. 

“Don’t give in! This is not you. You are my friend! Remember, you like physics jokes as much as I do and I’m not going to give up on you!” Pidge is the first one to call out to him.

“Ugh, what is she talking about? My ultimate plan is to destroy my enemies. You are my enemies.” Even as the words leave his mouth, his actions are stalled and he does not follow through with an attack.

“No, Lotor, remember, the hipster you loves kitty cats and poetry!” Hunk calls out. “Restrain aggression with virtue. Remember your compassion.”

Those words were familiar and warm. The darkness receded slightly, giving him just enough of a foothold to actively resist now. “No, I must...” he trails off. The paladins notice that he has stopped moving now and so they press on. 

“Lotor, Nymuë sacrificed herself for you,” Lance says gravely. “She’s the one who welcomes you home whenever you return. Come back to us. Come back to her.”

Lotor gasped and a light permeated the darkness. Memories of her broken and bloodied body flashed before him. What was he doing here?

“Guys, we’re running out of time, we can’t take this much longer,” says Pidge desperately.

“We will not abandon you,” cries Allura. “You have kindness within you, but you must be the one to choose life and to choose love.”

“You saved us once, Lotor,” yells Keith, “let us save you now!”

“Aarrrgh!” The pain in Lotor’s head was growing by the second. He hadn’t been abandoned. And he could remember her now. She loved him enough to die for him. But he didn’t know how to fight this. And then he remembered her words. “Veritas...” he whispered. 

His sincline mech suddenly took on a life of her own. She released hundreds of red anemone-like tendrils that tightly entangled her swords and drained her own weapons systems of power. In a final act of defiance, she used them to piggy-back herself onto Voltron and facilitate their escape from the white fields of death. 

With the help of all their friends, Nymuë had sheathed his sword.


	19. Dystopian Dynamite

The exhausted and battered team returned to the castle and pushed through their fatigue to prepare its descent to seal the growing rifts. As the paladins packed up their belongings, Korvak took Lotor down to see Nymuë. 

“Sir, I’ve managed to stabilize her injuries but she is only at 20% recovery. If we remove her from the regeneration chamber now, we once again risk her life. I’ve used all of my supplies and have nothing with which to support her.”

The sight of her impaled his heart. While it vanquished any darkened remnants within him, he now felt the crushing weight of his recklessness. He had lost himself and it almost cost her her life. “I am in your debt, Commander. You have my deepest gratitude. I will do what I can from here.” 

As he removed Nymuë from the pod and held her frail form, Lotor summoned whatever strength was left in him to heal her. He was able to appreciate the gravity of her injuries from the sheer amount of energy required to sustain her. He collapsed from the exertion. She was still unconscious. But she was out of danger.

Allura came to find him and speak with him privately. She helped him to sit up against the wall having found him listless and spent. 

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry we didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself or a chance to do much of anything before we opened fire on you. I allowed my anger to overshadow my reason and ended up saying something truly regrettable.”

“I had not expected an apology from you again. If any apology is warranted, it should be on my part for attempting to annihilate all of you. I should have listened to Nymuë. I was not ready to enter the quintessence field and the bitterness I have felt all these many ages consumed me.” He looks down at the blood-stained clothing and blood-matted hair and feels his heart shatter again. 

Allura can see the distress on his face. “We’re so glad you’re alright now. I think she would be proud of you for the choice you made,” she smiles.

“No, actually, she’d call me a swamp-witted, toady-faced, fuckpickle and tell me to fucking defenestrate myself,” Lotor says with a sigh. 

Allura laughs out loud. “That sounds like a bomb she would drop. I don’t even know what defenestrate means.”

“It means fucking throw myself out a window.”


	20. Moolander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are all kinds of courage... It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”
> 
> -JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

It was dark when she slowly awoke. Someone was beside her holding her hand. Something else warm and heavy was curled beside her. She stirred and repositioned herself but somnolence washed over her and she closed her eyes again.

Several hours later, Nymuë opened her eyes to a gentle light and a warmth beside her. 

“Hey guys! She’s awake!” exclaims Lance excitedly as he calls everyone in. 

She looked beside her to find a shock of white hair lying motionless on the bed. She tried to move but her hand and her legs were laden with weight. Lance shook Lotor awake. “He hasn’t left your side and neither has this wolf,” says Lance gently. “No idea how he ran an empire at the same time.”

“How long have I been out?” she manages in a raspy voice.

“Several days.”

“That’s anticlimactic.”

Lotor stirred and lifted his head. She had never seen him smile so brightly. He kissed her cheek and nuzzled his face into her hair.

“How do you feel?” asks Pidge. 

“Like I got the shit beat out of me by Shiro.” They all laughed. 

“So glad you’re alright,” says Hunk.

She tries to sit up but lacks the strength to do so. Lotor lifts her up. “Thank you for saving me. I thought I was going to die.”

“Commander Korvak stabilized you until we could get you into a regenerative chamber. How did you know to train him in first aid?” asks Hunk.

“Fortune favours the prepared. What he did wasn’t just first aid. It was emergency medicine. He’d make a great doctor.”

“He’s been promoted to second-in-command and has been at the helm while I’ve been here,” says Lotor with a smile.

“He also finished securing the Anemone override while I distracted everyone with a terse exchange of words.” She winks at them. “What happened afterwards? You’re all friends again?” she asked as she petted her guardian wolf. 

They took turns telling her the whole story of how they rescued Lotor.

“Hey, remember when you told us to change the course of history by being Ron and Hermione to Lotor’s Harry? I have to say, Hunk was a pretty awesome Neville,” beams Lance. “Gryffindor should get like 500 points for that.”

“I’m in House Ravenclaw, thanks for nothing,” Nymuë says to some delighted chuckles.

“We just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve taught us. You saved all of us,” says Allura as she pulls her into a hug.

She was about to deflect but opted instead to say, “We did it together. But it was also because of the virtue already within each of you. I cannot take credit for that.”

“How did you and Pidge know to implement those measures?” asks Keith. 

“Yes, do tell,” says Allura.

“I practically spoon-fed you the secret of the life givers, so that was a metric shit ton of responsibility on me. Anything short of a deus ex machina safeguard and we would have been up shit creek without a paddle. Fucklollies on ice, so you’re saying that without Pidge and I, Lotor would have been lost in the quintessence field?! Christ on a melba toast, ya done messed up, Aaron! Y’all motherfuckers need to go read a book.” 

Everyone shares a hearty laugh.

Nymuë started to close her eyes after all that excitement and they decided to let her rest. She says softly to Lotor, “Since we’re headed back to earth, maybe don’t tell my family everything that has happened. They might all have simultaneous hemorrhagic strokes if we did. We’ll just keep it light and fluffy. Speaking of light and fluffy, remember that time you loved my crêpes? Well, buckle up, buttercup. You’re getting breakfast crêpes for the rest of your fucking life until you can’t choke down another bite for the shit-mangled, frothy-witted, egg-fucked, punk ass stunt you just pulled.”

He lays down next to her and holds her tightly to him. He didn’t mind having her crêpes for the rest of his life. “You did it. You broke the cycle of hatred because of everything you are. I do not want to imagine what could have happened without you, Nymuë. You have saved me in more ways than I can count and I could never repay the life debt I owe you. I cannot begin to rectify how my actions almost cost you your life.”

“Good thing our relationship isn’t a meritocracy, then...” she says with her eyes closed and drifts back to sleep with her hand in his.


	21. The Mask of Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The nurse knew that those who really love, love in silence, with deeds and not with words.”  
> ― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

After Nymuë’s discharge from the intensive care ward, Lotor spends the remainder of the day with her. He was probably a bit over-attentive, but she was too tired to protest. As he helps her bathe in the evening, he feels dismay at the weight that she has lost and at the scars that now mar her delicate skin.

“When you are feeling better, I have something for you,” he says affectionately.

“What is it? I’m better right now,” she says sleepily.

“I am not fully convinced.”

“Make love to me then.”

Lotor laughs. “You have barely recovered; I will not risk hurting you. You know, extreme enervation may approximate inebriation.”

“Not drunk. Make love to me.”

“This loveless kitten is also surprisingly laconic in her lassitude.”

“Not true,” she protested to his amusement. “Make love to me.”

He whispers gently, “Do not ask me anymore. Just rest... hmmmph!”

The last thing he expected was for her to launch herself at him, causing him to fall back on the bed. “Shhh... je t’aime à la folie.” She straddles his hips and he slides his hands down her back to rest lightly on her small waist. As he lays back and watches her arch her back and cry out so sensually for him, he has never found her more intoxicating and he doesn’t last very long.

She lays down on his chest and holds him tightly. After a while, her breathing evens out and he notices she remains motionless. 

“Nymuë, are you sleeping?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Allow me to shift you to a more comfortable position.”

“Nm nmm.”

“You... want to sleep on top of me?” He asks incredulously.

“Mm hmm.”

“You really are a kitten, aren’t you?” He laughs.

It was unanticipated and spectacularly absurd, yet perhaps the most intimate act he had ever experienced. He stroked her hair for a long time and wondered how many more times this tender bliss was possible... she would not live nearly as long as he would. All at once, the searing pain of separation seemed insurmountable to him. Memories of her selfless love then alighted on his sorrow before lifting it away. Within this new solace, he discovered a determination to live a life worthy of her and a readiness to allow true healing to begin.


	22. Red Thread Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No man is an island,  
> Entire of itself.  
> Each is a piece of the continent,  
> A part of the main.  
> If a clod be washed away by the sea,  
> Europe is the less.  
> As well as if a promontory were.  
> As well as if a manor of thine own  
> Or of thine friend's were.  
> Each man's death diminishes me,  
> For I am involved in mankind.  
> Therefore, send not to know  
> For whom the bell tolls,  
> It tolls for thee.”
> 
> -John Donne, For Whom the Bell Tolls

The paladins had delayed their departure to earth given the weakened states of Shiro and Nymuë but now were back on track to leave. Nymuë and Lotor would follow suit several weeks later given the multitudinous tasks awaiting their return. Korvak was about to inform the two of them on the status of the empire when Nymuë gives him a big hug and Lotor pats him on the shoulder. 

“Thank you so much for saving my life,” she says with a smile. “Supreme Commander suits you.” 

He was unaccustomed to physical affection and so awkwardly cleared his throat and proceeded a little too formally. 

“Sir, the negative propaganda against Sendak has been exceptionally effective. His rebellion has all but fallen apart. I’ve also taken the initiative of relaying the first successes of the quintessence field extraction and the populace has embraced it. With minimal resistance within the empire, we have been able to focus concerted efforts into developing quintessence impermeable suits and continue Operation Anemone.”

Lotor was astounded at the progress he had made. “How did you oversee completion of the suits so quickly?” 

“I called in the experts, sir. We’ve commissioned Slav to overhaul our existing ones and he was able to bypass the barriers you had encountered. He is also working on a method to close temporal rifts after entering the quintessence field, but as it stands only Voltron can do that.”

It is in this moment that the transceiver Korvak has been holding starts to alarm. 

“This is urgent. Please come this way, sire and we will explain.”

As they walk quickly towards the hangar, Korvak occupies himself with calling the paladins while Nymuë briefs Lotor. 

She smiles wryly. “Do you remember when I said I would kick your ass in every reality if you were careless about the lives you oversee?”

“Yes, you often lighten a tense situation with humour.”

“It wasn’t exactly a joke. When Veritas incapacitated her own weapons systems, she also released a dormant polyp into the quintessence field. If there is an energy signature that matches hers, the polyp will activate the anemone protocol and signal us via the transceivers. I was not going to let you die in another reality because some fawny, fur-brained, fuckmuzzles failed to read a book. The probability of this happening should have been close to nil; I can’t believe it’s actually alarming.”

“Nymuë, how far in advance have you planned?” he asks in utter astonishment. “And how can such transceivers work? It is a completely different reality. Our communications systems cannot currently connect with alternate realities.”

“When I left earth, the mathematics of string theory, a unifying theory to reconcile relativity and quantum theory were but a nascent and yet unverified field. However, with Slav’s peerless expertise in astrophysics, I’ve discovered it was indeed correct. Because the fabric of any reality still exists as space-time, it is therefore an a priori deduction that the extant strings can encode and instantaneously relay information via quantum entanglement, whether intra- or inter-reality. These transceivers are the crowning achievement, the magnum opus of a lifetime.”

“Physics isn’t even your field of expertise. How do you...” Lotor is interrupted by her subsequent glare. “Indubitably, I will go read a book when I am done here.” Korvak suppresses a laugh. “I have one more question. You refer to Veritas as a person, is this merely a figure of speech?”

Nymuë grins widely. “No, love. She’s sentient. Veritas is the name she chose after she connected with me. She’s wanting to bond with you as well. How do you think I’m able to be your co-pilot? I have no experience in such areas.”

Korvak has suits waiting for everyone as they approach the hangar where the lions have been stowed alongside the sincline ships. 

“Hey guys, so lemme get this straight,” Lance greets them. “We are going back in to the place that wanted to kill us to save Lotor from another reality who also probably wants to kill us. Like, should we just die already and get it over with?”

“I’m so sorry to put us all into great peril,” Nymuë says regretfully. “I don’t think ‘friendship is magic’ will help us this time. If he is requiring our intervention, my suspicion is that no one in the other reality was able to help him restrain his aggression.”

“I feel bad that he was just abandoned like that,” says Hunk ruefully. 

“They probably had no choice,” says Pidge. “Let’s go save our alternate reality friend. Hey, when we get back to earth, we should pitch this as a video game. Maybe call it Deus Ex Machina, or Deus Ex for short.”

Nymuë giggles. “Lotor’s Final Fallacy.” There were some rowdy cheers from the gaming crowd.

“Man, this Lotor sure had a lot of roadblocks,” grins Hunk, “Impasse Effect, anyone?” There was more laughter and finger guns. 

“Pulling his ass outta there could be our Haul of Duty,” laughs Pidge. 

“Yes! And his Red Thread Redemption!” cries Nymuë with delight as she stomps her feet.

“If you are quite finished mocking alternate reality me, I believe we have someone to rescue,” Lotor says with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuckmuzzle, as far as I know, belongs to David Simon


	23. The Sinclish Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You must protect yourself from sadness. Sadness is very close to hate.”  
> \- Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

Lotor created a wormhole to fast travel Voltron and Veritas toward coordinates in close proximity to the ruins of Daibazaal while Allura then honed their focused energy to penetrate into the quintessence field. It was incredibly surreal to witness the RoBeast drifting haplessly in a sea of ethereal light. They had arrived just in time. The sheer strain it was experiencing was threatening to rend it apart; were it not for the encasing of anemone tendrils, perhaps this Lotor would have met a different fate. The alternate mech offered no resistance and they retrieved him without impediment.

Hastening back to central command, Nymuë tended to Lotor’s unconscious counterpart in the sick bay while Pidge and Hunk ran tests on the ships. Keith, Lance, Allura and Lotor would remain with her. To their surprise, she had also requested the presence of Keith’s wolf, who promptly curled up beside their invalid. This was unlike any patient Nymuë had ever treated. There was no discernible cause for the induced stress, yet every system was hyper-stimulated and entering failure. 

“I’m having difficulty stabilizing him, and I’ve never seen this level of damage before without any apparent mechanism of injury. It’s down to the cellular level and there’s nothing conventional medicine can do,” Nymuë says despondently. 

“I’ll do it,” says Allura, “I can sense that it has to do with overexposure to my energy.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I did this. At least, the me from the other reality overwhelmed him with an colossal amount of alchemical energy.” Allura places one hand on his head and the other over his heart. As she infused healing energy into him, Nymuë looked on in awe as his life signs gradually normalized; she had brought him back from the brink of death and subsequently collapsed from the sheer exertion. Lance helped her up to sit on a chair. 

“Hey, so I’ve been thinking,” Keith starts. “If alternate Allura was forced to repel him with such an attack, he really must have gone after them with an intent to kill. If he’s that evil, can we really save him?”

“It’s not impossible,” Allura replies, “as I’ve come to understand many things that I didn’t know before, one of the most important of which is that good and evil are not separate dualities.” She smiles at Nymuë. “Perhaps this Lotor didn’t have a cushion of resilience to fall upon when the alternate me crushed his heart by saying he was just like his father. Perhaps the insanity only engulfed him when he felt abandoned by everyone he cared about.” She looks at the other Lotor now and says, “I’m also well aware of the blinding effects of rage coupled with tremendous loss.”

Lotor had been silent the entire time, just watching the scene unfold. If anyone could understand the turmoil felt by their inert charge, it was him. He looked at Nymuë then, and felt an incredible surge of gratitude for her. At this moment, however, he did not have more time to think upon it more as their patient started to rouse. Nymuë ushered them all away, hurriedly explaining that the sight of any of them might cause him to panic. She would be the first to greet him since he did not know her. She and the wolf, of course. 

“What if he attacks you?” Keith whispers furiously.

“Bahamutt will protect me,” she winks.

Alternate reality Lotor opens his eyes to a soft light, a gentle smile, and a warm, furry form beside him. He feels an excruciating headache and groans his discomfort. “Where am I? What am I doing here?” He looks at Nymuë in confusion. She was an entrancing human wearing a Galra space suit similar to that of his generals.

“Welcome back, Emperor Lotor. I’m Nymuë and I am a medic for the Galra empire. This is our wolf. He hasn’t left your side since you’ve been indisposed,” she says kindly as she pets the soft fur.


	24. Vanilla Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other word would smell as sweet“  
> \- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“May I continue to treat your injuries while I explain the situation to you?”

Lotor blinks a few times and studies Nymuë for a moment. He did not know whether she was hostile and deceptive or genuinely sympathetic. She senses his hesitation and says, “If it would make you more comfortable, I can sit over here and speak with you, after which you can judge my intentions. You are stable for the moment and not immediately requiring medical intervention.”

He puts his hand to his throbbing head and nods. 

“You are currently in an alternate reality.” He looks at her with incredulity. “We rescued you from the quintessence field and had we been a moment later, your RoBeast would have ruptured. Our Anemone program detected your presence and held you together long enough for us retrieve you. How much do you remember?” 

“You rescued me? I... almost remember everything but it seems impossible that I could have felt such malice towards... her. I ... even tried to eliminate all of them,” he says with marked distress and absentmindedly starts to pet the wolf. 

Nymuë walks up to him and sets her hand on his arm. “Lotor, have you ever heard of dissociative states associated with trauma?”

He narrows his eyes but does not answer. 

“What you experienced was a state of temporary insanity, triggered by an extremely traumatic event. The quintessence corruption followed shortly thereafter, causing you to lose yourself. We all know, however, that was not the real you.” She says inaudibly to everyone but him, “Perhaps what needs to be immediately iterated is that we all acknowledge you are not a liar and are nothing like your father.”

“How can you possibly ascertain so much about recent events or about me? Did you not state this is another reality? I surely have never met you before.”

Nymuë giggles and touches her fingers to her lips. “Oh, but I have met you and I know you very, very well.” 

“Nymuë,” calls a voice in the distance, “will you stop torturing him?”

“What is going on here?” Lotor says incredulously. He was certain he heard his own voice. 

Nymuë laughs and says, “I’d like you to meet our Lotor, Keith, Allura and Lance from across the pond.” To his bewilderment, they greet him warmly. Lance’s affectionate bear hug is perhaps the most jarring thing about this reality. Pidge and Hunk burst into the room at this moment and excitedly announce their findings on the Sincline ships. They are absolutely ecstatic that Lotor has awoken and also shower him with hugs. 

“Are you certain these are not the final hallucinations of an oxygen-starved brain,” alternate Lotor says to raucous laughter. He can’t help stealing furtive glances at Allura as she laughs.

“Well, we’re definitely the dream team,” is Nymuë’s tongue-in-cheek response. Hunk laughs and inadvertently snorts to which Pidge responds, “Pig-ments of the imagination.” 

“Hey guys, so what are we gonna call these two? They like need nicknames so we can tell them apart,” Lance declares.

“Well, sometimes I call our Lotor a pernicious polyplacophoric fuckpod, but whatever you like,” Nymuë says to uproarious laughter. “He also responds to fobbing shit-quibbled chordate.” 

Lotor crosses his arms and appears unimpressed. His counterpart asks him, “Do they always regard you with such mockery and disdain?”

“Nymuë is my intended and those are her terms of endearment.”

Alternate reality Lotor is now certain these are the agonal gasps of his hypoxic, dying brain.


	25. Casafranka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There should be no boundary to human endeavor.”  
> ― Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time

After an unnecessarily lengthy deliberation, the paladins had eventually settled on Final Fallacy as a code for Lotor’s doppelgänger and now referred to him as Flotor and on occasion, Sephiroth. In actuality, Hunk, Pidge and Nymuë vetoed all other votes and proceeded against all recommendations. As the debate now degenerated into what the wolf’s name should actually be, Allura and the two Lotors were having a conversation of their own. The wolf was still sitting with Lotor and he found himself greatly comforted by the gentle beast as he stroked the soft fur. 

“Allura, I must thank you immensely for saving me. I would have been lost were it not for you.”

“You’re welcome, Lotor, although I played a minimal role. I simply reversed the damage my alternate self dealt to you. It is something this Lotor could have done as well. All of the credit must go to Nymuë.” 

This was quite a revelation to him. “You were able to unlock the secrets at Oriande?” he asks incredulously.

Lotor looks over to Nymuë. “She was the first to do so and ensured we understood the immeasurable responsibility accompanying such power before guiding us to the answer.”

“Each answer you give me perpetuates a dozen more questions. Firstly, explain to me this Anemone protocol; how could you have known to develop it? Our realities are not interconnected.”

“To be quite frank with you, both of us would have succumbed in the quintessence field were it not for Nymuë. The entire project was spearheaded by her as a failsafe for my own Sincline ships, as well as for myself in other realities. This was an extension of the responsibility she assumed with regard to Oriande. She wields a predictive ability of superb accuracy; were she not fully ten steps ahead of me, neither of us would be having this conversation.”

“How are you immune to the adverse effects of quintessence exposure?”

“Nymuë, having vast scientific knowledge, advocated for the development of quintessence impermeable suits.”

“Why save me then? What do I have to do with your reality? It was a perilous task to send both Voltron and your RoBeast after me.” 

Allura smiles. “In all of my life, I have never encountered a love so pure. It was her kindness that planted and nurtured the friendships we have with this Lotor and it was her love for him that overflowed to you. She was unwilling that any of his counterparts perish due to oversight or negligence.” Now this was a concept so wretchedly anathema to everything he had known, it was immediately suspicious to alternate Lotor, scraping and clawing against the hardened notions of self-worth within him. 

Lotor puts his hand on his shoulder. “It took some time to acclimatize myself to it as well.”

“When you’re feeling better, I’d be happy to compare notes with you on all our adventures,” beams Allura. 

“You are willing to talk with me knowing that I have killed many Alteans?!”

“Nymuë already struck some sense into our hard heads over that. You should have seen the incontrovertible moral arguments she made on your behalf. I almost feel like I should apologize to you as well for the way I behaved.” 

Flotor still couldn’t believe what was happening. He had died and gone to some sort of afterlife party. At this moment, Pidge, Lance, and Hunk come barrelling over to make a simultaneous petition and admonition.

“Okay, so we’ve narrowed down the wolf name choices to three and we need your input,” declares Pidge, as she rests her elbow on Flotor’s shoulder. 

“I’ve already told you guys, he doesn’t need a name. I call him Wolf,” says Keith in exasperation.

“That’s like calling you knucklehead, knucklehead,” smirks Lance. 

“So we’ve got Sirius, Fenrir, and Loki.”

“Fen for short could be quite endearing,” offers Allura. 

“No, I’m not calling him any of those names.”

“Keith, what do you think of Okami? It’s simultaneously wolf and god,” smiles Nymuë.

“I’ll think about it.”

Flotor interjects at this point, “Do you always allow animals into the sick bays in this reality? It is a novel method of reducing stress.”

Lance shrugs. “Nymuë’s idea.”

Of course, it was her idea. Everything was her idea in this infuriatingly saccharin reality. It was as if she had his namesake on a leash and ran the empire herself.


	26. Spry Fidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while.” 
> 
> ― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

After a restful evening and a sound sleep, alternate Lotor was invited to have breakfast with Nymuë and Lotor. While she is occupying herself with making their morning meal, Flotor says surreptitiously to his host, “It is surprising to me that you maintain an entirely platonic relationship with Allura, while I found myself imploring her, in my own reality, to recognize that we were meant to be together.”

“It is interesting that you use the word ‘meant.’ Meant by whom, I must ask. Do you subscribe to the notion of fate?”

“Perhaps not until I met her.”

“I had a similar inward contention, but it was Nymuë who corrected that myopic vision, stating that the question is not whether it is fate that guides us, but rather, what is it that compels us. She continued to propound the idea that it was merely the constituents of love that draw two people together, particularly those who have their destinies in mind.”

This was a level of introspection he had not previously shared with Allura, or anyone else for that matter. The unilateral nature of many of his conversations with her, in fact, was uncomfortably coming to light. He is interrupted from his musings as Nymuë brings out her first plate of savoury crêpes. “Your penalty, messieurs,” is the only thing she says before she returns to make more. 

Flotor’s bemusement is apparent, to which his counterpart responds with laughter. Lotor subsequently relates the sequence of events leading up to her crêpes of wrath. Alternate Lotor listens with increasing disbelief at the disparate events between their realities.

“Please, allow me a moment to understand. The woman you care for ingeniously rallies your accusors to your cause, all but sacrifices her life for you, rescues me for good measure, and now daily makes you your favoured sustenance as retribution. For committing the same crime, the woman I care for rips out my still-beating heart, and feeds it to her blue lion.”

Lotor smiles wryly. “It would seem Fate is a fickle mistress, then, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Best to leave her behind. For the record, these crêpes are your punishment, as well. I am not entirely certain when they become punitive, however, as Nymuë makes a different type each day, each as delectable as the last.”

“It is extraordinarily difficult to believe this is all real.”

Nymuë saunters by at that moment with a second plate of crêpes and says devilishly, “Oh, they’re real and they’re spectacular.”


	27. The Princess Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.”  
> ― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

With great compassion in all of their hearts, the paladins once again delay their trip back to earth. Alternate reality Lotor was going to experience true friendship if it was going to be the last thing they all did. In the time elapsed since their trip to Oriande, they had all independently solved the riddle of the life givers and understood the weight of noblesse oblige. Flotor could not be released with his RoBeast back to his reality unless he too, not only understood, but embraced a selfless philosophy. 

For the first time in his life, Flotor laughed until his abdomen ached; Pidge, Hunk and Nymuë discovered quickly that he was particularly fond of hyperbolic lambasting and inundated their cohorts with a flood of insults. Many tea parties were held in his honour where he discovered the incomparable joy of fellowship. Lance and Nymuë performed both duets and guitar solos for their delighted guests, which brought an unexpected calm to the roiling, turbulent waters in his heart. 

Allura had kept her promise and spent hours with him, sharing not just their many adventures, but the moral lessons she had learned from Nymuë. This Allura, he discovered, was different than the one he knew. He found himself captivated by her insight, maturity, and constant regard for his well-being. As an unintended consequence, she brought cleansing and clarity to the turpid, stagnant pools of Galra principles within him. Nymuë and Lotor were pleasantly surprised by the rapidity of this moral uptake and soon acknowledged his readiness to enter Oriande again. Flotor passed with flying colours. 

As quickly as it all began, it was over. With anemone finally installed in his Sincline ship, Flotor’s last day arrived too soon. Pidge made modulations to their transceivers and gifted him with a few of them to be able to maintain contact after his departure. Nymuë and Lotor gave him a few of their quintessence suits. With a heavy heart, he said good-bye to each of his new friends and thanked them profusely for all they had done for him. Allura takes him aside for one last conversation. 

“The more I think upon it, the more I realize the tragedy of errors that would have happened had I assumed the role of my counterpart.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Should I think upon it honestly, if she was like me, she would have rushed headlong into a schoolgirl crush, never bothering to understand the psychological repercussions from the mistreatment you had endured, nor ever giving a second thought to the disparities in the moral codes we adhere to.”

“I appreciate the level of empathy that you exhibit even now,” he smiles as he looks at her. “I also feel responsible for the events that unfolded. I was so focused on achieving my own goals that I rarely ventured into discussions outside of it. It is something I only realized after speaking to my counterpart for five dobashes.”

“You know, Nymuë’s preferred admonition is telling people to read a book. At times it is humorous and at others, it is severely humiliating, but after taking her advice, I am truly astounded at my own ignorance. I had no right to to say the things I did or judge you, well the other you, the way I did. I acted in the same manner that my alternate self did and it could have also hypothetically cost you your life.”

“Please do not apologize; you have not wronged me in any way. It was perhaps a tragedy of errors, as you say.” 

Allura pulls him into an embrace and lays her head on his chest to his utter shock. “If you love her, perhaps give her another chance to understand. Maybe you can sic the Nymuë from your reality on her to beat some sense into her,” she says with a laugh. “But if that sorry excuse of a lumpish, peristalsis-obstructing zabluvian eel is foolish enough to reject you a second time, know that I love you and will wait for you.”

Allura then grabs him by the collar, drags his head down, and gives him one of the most passionate kisses he’s had in his life.


	28. When Flotor Met Allura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take on me (take on me)  
> Take me on (take on me)  
> I'll be gone  
> In a day or two
> 
> \- The Dark Knight

The rest of team watches with mild nausea as Flotor drags Allura away to an unknown location.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, arm swinging and pursed lipping, Pidge says, “so how long do you think they’ll be gone?”

“Mmm, couple hours, maybe?” Hunk says.

Lotor wordlessly picks up Nymuë, throws her over his shoulder and walks out of the hangar with her.

Pidge and Hunk look at each other and also make a run for it.

Lance and Keith are left standing there haplessly for several more awkward moments. 

“So what should we do?” asks Keith. 

Lance looks at him and waggles his eyebrows. 

“No, no, no, absofuckinlutely not. There are five gazillion Klance fan fictions out there but this is not one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parting is such sweet sorrow. Adieu until season 7.


	29. Bonus chapter: Back to the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day after chapter 4 of Breakfast at Nymuë’s

Lotor wakes Nymuë early the next morning and takes her for a walk in the cold, dark, winter morning. She was still incredibly sleepy and slightly irked that he woke her so early, especially when he was the one who had wanted her all night. She sighed deeply as she looked at how happy he was. What was one more night of sleep deprivation after innumerable years of it? 

“So where are we going?” she asks as she yawns.

“Not far from here,” he says as he takes her hand.

“Hey, in case you were still wondering, my crêpes weren’t ever going to be punitive. You’ve had a lifetime of punishment. I couldn’t bear to contribute to anymore.”

He chuckles. “I know, Nymuë. Though they did make me wonder, on occasion, if one could be killed with kindness.”

She giggles and stops to embrace him. They continue on to the top of a small and secluded knoll. As the first rays of dawn filtered through the silhouetted trees, he holds her close and says, “you have been quite salubrious of late.”

She pulls away slightly to look at him. “So you keep me up all night and then drag me out of bed and into the cold at the crack of dawn just to tell me I look healthy?”

Lotor sighs. “Do you remember I told you I have something for you after you were recovered?”

“You did? I can’t remember. Which I think is also your fault because I told you I can’t remember things when I’ve been up all night.”

He laughs as he kisses her cheek because she seemed intent on ruining whatever mood he was trying to create.

“The days I spent at your side while you were unconscious were filled with an unparalleled regret,” he begins as he caresses her cheek. “It was Lance who then perceived my distress and stated that as someone who has made many mistakes, all you can do is to try again.” He pulls out a beautifully ornate hair comb and presses it into her hand. “Hunk then gave me a section of the diamond from the compressed castle and made a sly remark about poetry.” While she is still admiring the delicately inlaid gems in silent awe, he turns it over to reveal a tiny engraved sonnet. “Perhaps words can never fully articulate what you mean to me, but this may come close.

“The tempests of rage do cede their command,  
To naught but the flow of water’s behest.  
The windstorm of vice will calm at her hand,  
Her love so entreats, and thus lays to rest.

Stagnant and turbid, are pools in their wake,  
Left washèd and pure, by rain’s gentle fall.  
Radiance of spring, ne’er will she forsake,  
But foment and soothe the wounds of the squall.

When acrid winds blow of suff’rance once more,  
And inclement gales snuff reason’s good plea,  
Winter she summons to fall’s battered shore,  
Where first snows of light cause darkness to flee.

Verdure of envy, as summer craves thee,  
For fairest in snow, is love’s purity.”

Nymuë was rendered speechless. The only thing she could do was hold him close as she cried into his shoulder. When she finally was able to salvage some composure, she smacked him a few times. 

“You,” she sobbed, “wanted to leave me behind last night to some other empty-headed numpty of a random man, who’d be incapable of a fraction of the divinity you just displayed, and who wouldn’t even know the modern meaning of foment and inclement, let alone the archaic ones you just used... my god, that was utterly brilliant, using inclement to simultaneously express its old and new meaning.” She wiped away her tears. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life. I’ve never even told you the use of archaic words in poetry is my weakness. Christ in a roller derby, how do you even know how to write a sonnet?”

“I merely followed the format that is often used by Shakespeare.”

She hits him again, “How the fuck were you single until now? God almighty, never say you’re leaving me again, fucking Mr. Darcy.”


	30. Bonus chapter: Back to the Future Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Battles are won by slaughter and maneuver. The greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he demands in slaughter.”  
> \- Winston S. Churchill

The day after she had first regained consciousness, Nymuë still felt lethargic but she knew this meeting would be of paramount importance. With a raspy voice and a moderate headache, she pressed on. All the paladins were present and Lotor, of course, wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re up for a meeting? You just woke up yesterday!” Hunk says with concern.

“Yeah, it’s ok. Thanks for coming. I’m amazed at what you accomplished together and it represents the exceptional potential you have as a team. With that said, there are certain things you must understand going forward. There are very real threats we face from not just rebellious factions and Haggar, but from... potentially unforeseen origins.”

Nymuë pauses to sip some water. 

“These were the thirty-six stratagems employed by the most accomplished military strategist of his era, Zhuge Liang. Please familiarize yourselves with all of them. As soldiers, you are too honest, too predictable, and too reactionary. You must be as cunning and secretive as a viper, ready to strike when the opportunity arises.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to read a book, can you just tell us?” groans Lance. 

“Okay. Mán tiān guò hǎi means cross the sea without the emperor’s knowledge. It refers to masking your true objectives with a ruse or a ploy. Now it’s your turn to tell me an example of this.”

“Easy. Lotor totally faked us out with that distress beacon so he could get the comet,” replies Lance. Allura furrowed her brows at this. 

“Wéi Wèi jiù Zhào means besiege Wei to rescue Zhao. When the enemy is too strong, attack one of his weaknesses. Example?”

“Hmm. Zarkon did that with my dad,” says Pidge. 

“Shēng dōng jī xī means make a sound in the east and strike in the west. So creating an expectation in the enemy’s mind and then delivering a surprise attack can overwhelmingly tip the scales to victory. We did this together when Sendak attacked that labour planet.”

“Man, I wish I could have seen the look on his face when he realized Voltron was kicking his ass,” smirks Hunk. 

“Dá cǎo jīng shé means stomp the grass to scare the snake. Provoke the enemy with a grazing shot to taunt him into giving away his plans.”

“Oh man, Lotor totally did that when we first fought. Come to think of it, did you do that to lure all of us out?” asks Hunk suspiciously. 

He smiles. “Indeed, I had to gauge the strength and number of my... frenemies.” They all laughed. 

“Diào hǔ lí shān translates to coaxing the tiger from its mountain lair. Therefore...”

Keith interrupts. “Ugh, it means lure them into a more vulnerable position. Like how Lotor lured us to Thayserix. I fell for it. Don’t remind me.” Lance laughs the hardest at this. 

“Shùn shǒu qiān yáng is seizing the chance to steal a goat.”

“Wait,” says Pidge. “Gauge our numbers. So you didn’t know whether the Black Lion was operational until you drew all of us out. And once you knew that, oh my god, you set the distress beacon. You seized that opportunity to steal a goat!”

“Nymuë has, on occasion, referred to me as a goat-herding Neanderthal,” he says matter-of-factly to peals of laughter. Nymuë would have laughed more but she was already feeling drained. 

“Lǐ dài táo jiāng means sacrifice the plum tree to preserve the peach tree. This is the last one I have the energy for, my apologies. The scapegoat reaps the consequences and is sacrificed for the greater good.” 

There was a solemn silence as everyone swallowed the lump in their throats. Allura, in particular, was deeply contemplative and conflicted. The world was not as black and white as she had thought and she had much learning to do.

“Here are copies of the stratagems for you all to study. My purpose today was twofold. Firstly, hard choices have to be made during war. Not all of these are applicable to us, especially those that patently contravene the moral codes we follow. However, be knowledgeable, be wary, and be wise. Know yourselves, and know your enemies. Secondly, Lotor is one of the most brilliant military tacticians I have seen in this lifetime. Good to have him on our team.” Nymuë mumbles as she yawns and turns over.

Lotor strokes her head. “And that same cunning would have lead to my demise if you did not surpass me in every way.” She was already asleep and did not hear his last words.


	31. Bonus chapter: Back to the Future Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's my theory about meetings and life: the three things you can't fake are erections, competence and creativity.”  
> ― Douglas Coupland, JPod

After a delicious breakfast of revenge crêpes, the trio went their separate ways. Lotor was going to take his twin on a tour of central command and then allow him some alone time as per Nymue’s request.

Nymuë went to find her friends to plan their afternoon; she found herself reminiscing on her journey thus far and recognized, for the first the time, the metamorphosis of her contentedness into contentment. She recalled Pidge had said jokingly at their first tea party that Nymuë was her new best friend. She never imagined that through their mutual love of cheesy jokes and work on Red Pill, she truly would become her closest confidante. They were both highly logical in their thinking and complemented each other well on collaborative projects. She manages to track down Lance, Pidge and Hunk; Keith and Krolia had other duties to attend to, while Allura was spending time with Romelle. 

“Hey, guys,” starts Lance, “Have you seen Shiro, lately? Every time he’s supposed to meet us, he doesn’t show up.”

“Oh, he seems to spend a lot of time in the Black Lion,” says Nymuë.

“What? Why? What is he doing in there?” asks Lance.

Hunk laughs. “I think he’s recording himself singing karaoke. He was singing Despacito the last time I saw him.”

“What? So he died, but now he’s alive, sings karaoke, and speaks Spanish? What is going on around here!”

Pidge shrugs her shoulders. “Mm hm mm. I guess Shiro 2.0 got some upgrades.”

“Hey,” says Hunk, “maybe he’ll come if we turn our tea party into a karaoke party. I bet Sephiroth has never heard break-up songs before.”

“Man, that’s got to be the worst break-up ever,” laments Lance. “I can definitely say I’ve never broken up with anyone and then fought in a death match in a couple of giant robots.”

“When you put it like that, I dunno if karaoke will cut it,” sighs Hunk.

“What about ice cream?”

“Maybe. But we still need more.”

“Laughter is the best medicine, right? Hey Nymuë,” says Pidge, “what makes our Lotor laugh the most?”

“I’ve noticed quite a few differences between them already. I don’t think they would necessarily laugh at the same things.”

“What? Really? How are they different?” asks Lance suspiciously.

“Ours is more introspective and a little more creative; I’m almost certain Flotor doesn’t write poetry, for example. Lotor likes physics jokes, self-effacement, and puns. Alternate reality Lotor might actually respond well to insults. And what’s the one place to unleash a slew of epithets at each other?”

“Monsters and Mana!” they all yelled at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat came back the very next day, it just couldn’t stay away. 
> 
> The next series may require the most complex plot thus far. Monsters and Mana WITH LOTOR: Vrepit Sa or Vrepit Nah?


	32. Star Wars: A New Trope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened.”  
> ― Douglas Coupland, Life After God

While the plans for a Monsters and Mana party were underway, Lotor introduced his counterpart to Commander Korvak and both of them stayed to listen to his report. 

“Sire, we are making the final preparations for tomorrow’s strike. This communiqué details the readiness of squadrons alpha through epsilon and all available battalions under Omega Supreme. This will be Sendak’s last ditch effort at victory, whereafter, we can focus our efforts on defeating Haggar.”

“Well done, Commander. It would seem Nymuë’s suspicion of the mole was correct.”

“Yes sir, he will be dealt with as soon as he makes his final communication.”

Flotor feels the need to interject at this point. “How have you managed to suppress the insurrection so efficaciously? I had a tenuous grasp over the empire at best, with numerous factions eschewing their loyalty in favour of that traitor. Have you already begun quintessence negotiations, then?”

“No, we have not. It began at the Kral Zera. Nymuë suavely persuaded the paladins to accompany me with Voltron, thereby obviating unnecessary resistance and conflict. We secured the majority of our allegiances that day.” Lotor then shows him his first speech. Flotor was markedly impressed with the authority he immediately commanded. “As it turns out, she is also remarkably proficient in persuasive speech-writing and directed my delivery of it. This was the first of many successes to establish my authority as emperor among the masses. Subsequently, she launched an eminently successful propaganda campaign against Sendak and initiated multiple operations to infiltrate his camps. I am merely delivering the crowning blow to their comminuted confidence and strictured support.”

Flotor sighed. “She is a panacea to every imaginable ailment. If you wish to know the ramifications of a reality without her, you need only ask me.” Lotor and Korvak smiled but both of them felt deeply sympathetic. 

Alternate Lotor made a mental note to find Nymuë Beaumont in his own reality and recruit her to be one of his generals. He even wondered fleetingly if perhaps his feelings for Allura would be different had he met her first. Unbeknownst to any of them now, the Beaumont household in his reality has never known a Nymuë. Her name was Guinevere, and she had been expelled by the Garrison on the eve of the paladins’ departure. Having struggled with depression for many years, it is at this moment that she is contemplating a solution to end her relentless misery. Lotor comes to a sudden realization and says discreetly, “If you intend to seek her out, do so sooner rather than later when you return. Perhaps you can ask mine to disclose her tragic circumstances to you, but if the one in your reality still subscribes to existentialist thought like mine used to, the shadows within her may threaten to tip the precarious balance from life over to death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sob* there are 300 pages in the D&D Player’s Handbook and 300 odd pages in the Dungeon Masters Handbook. Maybe we’ll have M&M out by frickin’ Halloween or S7. Whichever comes first. Being a DM and 8 different players is hard. That is all.


	33. Star Wars: Return of the Selfie

Flotor’s ships had sustained significant damage during his fight in the quintessence field so he had resigned himself to a lengthy stay in this alternate reality. The heartache from Allura’s categorical renunciation of him had been dulled by the friendliness of this likeable bunch and the busyness of aiding their endeavours. It was still a serendipitous feeling that they did not consider him a threat in any way; rather, they welcomed him as one of their own and even recruited his services in the fight against rebel insurgents. 

As he walked the corridors with his host, he was looking forward to seeing this Lotor’s strategy with regard to a show of force. Would they send in Voltron under cloaking in a surprise ambush? Would they break the phalanx ranks with a ruse and rush the opening? He wanted to blow something up, to be honest, and whatever ‘coup de main’ they were planning, he wanted to be a part of it. 

A short time later, a few of the paladins had caught up with them and invited them to a rousing game of Monsters and Mana later in the afternoon. Lotor smiles and agrees to come. 

“Do you not have an impending strike to prepare for?” Flotor asks disbelievingly. “Is it not a dereliction of duty to squander time playing a child’s game?”

Nymuë laughs. “The spy delivered our ‘secret transmission’ this morning. We can expect their surrender sometime today.”

“What?”

“Commander Thrakol was a turncoat who has been feeding Sendak’s camp information about us but little did he realize any and all intel was planted. I asked Pidge to record any potential fight with Voltron engaging Lotron and we edited it to show Voltron getting his ass handed to him. That was relayed to Sendak this morning. Persuasion is greater than force.”

“Lotron?”

“Yeah,” says Lance. “Lotor + Voltron = Lotron.”

“Then the strike you spoke of?”

“Merely a precaution in the event of continued resistance. Please make use of our amenities as you see fit. Nymuë and I have pressing matters to attend to. Come, Nymuë,” Lotor said authoritatively as he ushered her away.

“They’re always doing that military strategizing thing,” says Hunk.

“It’s no wonder everything in the empire falls into order,” remarks Lance. 

Flotor, at this moment, wished he didn’t know his counterpart as well as he did. He could see Nymuë blush and bite her lip as she was being led away. ‘Come, Nymuë’ was a double entendre that no one else seemed to understand. That son of a bitch levelled innuendos at her every chance he got. 

“Hey, man, do you want to join us for milkshakes?” asks Pidge.

Flotor clears his throat. “You know not of what you speak,” he mumbles.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Yes, of course, I would be delighted.” This was going to be a very long stay.


	34. Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Sendak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rah rah ah-ah-ah  
> Ro mah ro-mah-mah  
> Gaga oh-la-la  
> Want your bad romance
> 
> \- Batman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens after the first two chapters of M&M, because that’s how Star Wars is, mmkay? So, if you could just go ahead and read those first, that’d be greeeaaaat.

“Sire, our intelligence reports indicate that of the six remaining factions loyal to Sendak, three of them have abandoned ship since they received word that the emperor has a superior weapon to Voltron. They now pledge allegiance to the empire,” Commander Korvak says as he begins their final meeting. In attendance are the paladins, the commanders of each squadron, and the admirals of each battalion. Alternate reality Lotor’s presence was classified information and he would listen from a separate room. 

“Sendak’s camp still does not have any intel on the capabilities of your RoBeast but intend to launch an attack when you are giving your address to the people today. Given their small numbers, they intend to covertly deploy explosives among those in attendance. In the ensuing chaos, you will be targeted for assassination.”

“Thank you, Supreme Commander. Every opportunity has been afforded to secede from this traitorous uprising, but now is the time to deliver the crushing blow. Through subterfuge and subversion, we have bled the rebellion into its limp and weakened state; today marks the end of the civil war, and our triumph ushers in a new era of peace and prosperity. You will all be briefed on your posts; I will personally give the signals for EMCON Bravo and EMCON Alpha. Nymuë will give the commands during alpha level of emissions control should we require it.”

“Vrepit Sa,” came the loyal reply. 

Today was indeed, a historical day on planet Feyiv. Lotor had been quite amenable to Nymuë’s idea of a military parade; although he previously may have besmirched any such suggestion, she had specified that historically successful autocracies consolidated support, inspired loyalty, and roused incredible patriotism via the visibility and proximity of their leader in a grand show of arms. This would be the first of its kind in the Galra empire and thousands of people would be in attendance to see their beloved emperor. Lotron was on display behind the imperial stage; its intimidating presence commanded awe and admiration among the Galra citizens. The covert purpose, however, was to lure the parasitic insects from their hive and exterminate them.

It was a massive effort on the part of the empire. The coalition support Nymuë had garnered for Lotor previously played a significant role in intelligence gathering. Matt had been summoned to assist in operating Voltron’s cloaking, but most importantly, Pidge, Matt and Hunk had been able to decode Sendak’s communications. As Lotor greeted his fanatic constituents, the blade of Marmora started to move. The novel use of suicide bombers would be met with lethal force, as cloaked figures inconspicuously danced in and out of the crowds. Keith’s wolf successfully stalked and hunted and all fifty bombers, and as they snatched the last one, he fought back viciously. 

“For the glory of the Fire!” he cried valiantly. 

“Nothing is true, brother. Everything is permitted,” were the last words he heard before his throat was slit. 

Lotor was still giving a rousing speech to the populace when Kolivan signalled Commander Korvak: the Fire had green-lighted the explosions. As mock explosions rocked the crowd with fear and confusion, the crepuscular rays of the afternoon sky were darkened by an ominous battle fleet. No warning was given before they opened fire upon the terrified masses cowering and running for shelter. Fear soon gives way to shock as no damage is dealt. Lotor once again addressed his subjects. 

“Fellow Galra, no harm will come to you today. The shields that now guard your lives are fueled by our newly harvested quintessence. Today marks the end of the treachery that so infects our grand empire. Stand with me now and witness the dawn of a new era!”

The Sincline RoBeast suddenly takes to the skies, eliciting gasps of surprise and excitement from the crowd. Nymuë and Flotor now attacked the fleet singlehandedly with their dual sword wielding mech. The synchronization he had with her was exhilarating; as she wordlessly anticipated his commands, the two of them fought as one, fluidly incapacitating their opponents. The wonderstruck crowd cheered their mesmerizing sword dance. All at once, a blast from an ion cannon caused the mech to seize and fall to the ground. The people gasped and bemoaned such misfortune. 

At this moment, more battle cruisers appeared in the sky as Sendak’s fleet regrouped to deliver their crushing blow. Screams and cries filled the air as they fired upon the mech with the full force of their ion cannons. Lotor now signals EMCON alpha: complete emissions silence. 

Voltron had been cloaked and suddenly appeared to shield Lotron from the blow. Of course, it had all been a ruse to draw out the remainder of the beleaguered rebellion. 

On all telecommunications channels, the only thing that is heard is, “Guān mén zhuō zéi.” Sendak’s fleet scrambles to figure out what was being said. It was too late, however, to comprehend all their escape routes were now blocked by a cloaked energy shield system surrounding the planet. Now the true slaughter was about to begin. 

Nymuë didn’t feel like talking to anyone after seeing so many lives lost. She and Lotor had expended the maximum effort to avert such bloodshed, but at the end of the day, battle-hardened galra will not so easily lay down their weapons. She wordlessly left the group and went to her place of refuge. She had found an old strategy room close to the bridge that also happened to be a boon to acoustic resonance. Sitting down in the dimly lit room overlooking a magnificent expanse of stars, she had played for a short time when she heard someone approach from behind her. She knew his footsteps and slid over so he could sit beside her. 

Although her wispy vibrato intertwined with her harmonic accompaniment sent shivers down his spine, it was the purity of her song that most compelled him. She somehow distilled melody into love and melancholy, and he longed for her like he never had before. 

Nymuë finally finds herself saying, “I realize the extenuating circumstance justifying today’s killing is self-preservation. However, it is no less distressing to me. Widespread slaughter which should spark opprobrium and outrage is invariably lauded as victory and strength in war.”

“I came because you seemed distraught when you left. Without your appreciable your contributions, there could well have been significantly greater losses. I imagine it was as propitious as it could have been. Perhaps that may be of some comfort to you,” he says as he sets his hand on her shoulder.

Nymuë smiled. That was how he used to speak to her at the beginning. “Thank you,” she says as she brings him close to her. Before he has a chance to react, she pulls him into a kiss. 

She had saved his life when he had been abandoned by everyone he cared about. She had danced in perfect lockstep with him today. Her boundless intelligence was a potent aphrodisiac he was powerless to resist. Any will to stop her had long since fled, and he returned her kiss passionately. Forbidden fruit was after all, the sweetest of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going straight to hell. I blame Swordking37465967 in accounting.
> 
>  For those of you not going to hell, Nymuë’s probably playing While My Guitar Gently Weeps for Flotor. But who cares? I don’t care.


	35. Remorse Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there's a God above  
> But all I've ever learned from love  
> Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya  
> And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
> It's not somebody who's seen the light  
> It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
> 
> Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
> Hallelujah, Hallelujah
> 
> I did my best, it wasn't much  
> I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch  
> I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you  
> And even though it all went wrong  
> I'll stand before the Lord of Song  
> With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
> 
> -Leonard Cohen

The broken and bitter shards of heartache were really only churned to the surface when he was alone. Even though this opportunity was nothing more than love by proxy, even though it would never come to him again, he still embraced it. So he allowed those fragmented sentiments to settle like sediment, back into the brackish depths, and the tender solicitude that he was subsequently able to decant to her took her breath away. Every touch and every caress was exquisitely gentle because it would forever be the last one of its kind. He gingerly kissed every part of her as he undressed her, sending wave after wave of ecstasy that completely unravelled her. 

Any remaining semblance of self-control would be abandoned the first time she came for him. The more he drank of this euphoric elixir, the less able he was to quench his thirst. There was no longer any hesitation to make her his own. He held her down and had his way with her over and over again. 

She was still shuddering against him when under the faint starlight, she looks at him in confusion. “Lotor, what... what happened to your tattoos?”

“My sweet flower, do you not know to whom you have just given yourself?”

Nymuë lets out a strangled cry.


	36. Solo: A Succour Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.”
> 
> -Marilyn Monroe

Lotor discovered Nymuë crying inconsolably in a corner in her own rarely used bedroom much later that night. He had searched everywhere for her and only looked in there as a last resort. As soon as she saw him, she cried even harder and tried to run away. Despite his attempts to calm and to coax her, he couldn’t come close to soothing her disconsolate and desperate state. He resigned himself to holding her though she struggled against his efforts. It was a long time before her crying finally dissipated into sobbing. 

“I... I did something terrible and... you’re probably going to leave me when you know...” she said through choked sobs. 

Lotor actually chuckled. “Nymuë, I am certain there is nothing you could do that would cause me to leave you. Now, be at ease and tell me what happened,” he said gently as he stroked her hair. It actually broke his heart a little to see her so distraught at the prospect of hurting him. 

Lotor listened with increasing amusement at her tale of woe: she had mistaken his alternate self for him and then the son of a bitch had taken advantage of that fact and had slept with her. By the time she had finished, he was laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes. 

Nymuë didn’t know what to make of the situation. She was certain he would be absolutely livid with jealousy and not... overwhelmed with laughter. 

“Lotor, did you misunderstand what I said? I cheated on you! I’m a horrible person... why are you laughing at me?” 

Lotor pauses to look at her through his chuckles. “Firstly, you did no such thing. Do you humans have such taboos around sex that you believe this constitutes infidelity?”

“What?” She cries incredulously.

“Secondly, if the situation were reversed, it is exactly what I would have done.”

“What?!”

“Thirdly, if he feels for you a fraction of the attraction that I did when I met you, it would be cruel and unusual punishment to keep him from you.”

“WHAT?!”

“He is me, after all. This is an exceptional circumstance, Nymuë. He is not a twin or sibling, but truly myself. I imagine you and I will always be drawn together, regardless of the reality. I have no qualms about sharing you with him, though he does so at his own jeopardy, as I will not allow him to take you with him.”

“Whaaaat is going on?!?!”

Lotor wipes away her tears and grins wickedly, “Now, if you still have residual feelings of guilt, perhaps you should come with me and be prepared to seek restitution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve put a down payment on a little place between the fire and the brimstone. Doesn’t cost any money, just a piece of your soul. M&M is about to get really hot.


	37. Star Wars: The Last Butterfly

Lotor found her mistake endlessly amusing and to Nymuë’s deepest chagrin, Flotor was still invited for breakfast the next morning. She opted to make elaborate multicoloured butterfly pancakes this time and wordlessly served them both. They knew that the level of complexity was directly proportional to her level of displeasure but Lotor just couldn’t resist, nor could he even summon his usual dry humour. 

“Nymuë I must ask you, is this a pidgeon?” he says and then unsuccessfully suppresses a laugh. She shoots him a dirty look before she returns to make more.


	38. 500 Shades of Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” - Robert Frost

After breakfast, Lotor had left to attend to numerous imperial duties in the aftermath of the Battle of Feyiv. Sendak’s rebellion had been entirely expunged but he had yet to be accounted for. The paladins were also assisting in Lotor’s efforts, leaving Nymuë and Flotor at central command. 

Flotor took a deep breath. He hadn’t anticipated such astonishing generosity from his host and was still dumbfounded that no one was condemning his deception. As he looked at Nymuë, however, he felt extremely remorseful at the symphony of misery he had caused her and moved to take her hand. 

“Nymuë,” he started, “I deeply regret causing you such distress.” He braced himself for a reprisal of the discordant rejection he had recently experienced. “It was tremendously selfish of me to deceive you in such a way.”

There was such sorrow and heartache in his eyes that she brought his hand to her lips to kiss it. “I am not angry with you. I was the one who kissed you.”

“How can you not be? I...”

She sighed. “I was upset, not at you, but at the thought that he would leave me for what I did. Yet, he not only endorsed our liaison, but seemed to know that I would love you the same way I love him.”

He drew a sharp breath. Of all of the things he thought she might say to him, this was certainly not one of them. “You...” he couldn’t finish. He had to sit down. He even ran his hand through his hair which is something he never did.

He finally said, “That seems specious at best and spurious at worst. Are you being facetious?” 

“None of those,” she giggled. She moves to straddle him and kisses his lips. “There is no layer of superfice,” she whispers as she traces kisses down his neck. His restraint is easily undone and he is now desperately trying to remove her clothing. “Nor any layer of artifice,” she murmurs as she starts to remove his. Her eloquence alone made him wild with desire and he can’t unfasten his pants quickly enough. “And certainly no caprice.” 

“It’s just stupid on every level no matter how far you go,” she breathes as he forcefully penetrates her. 

His protracted stay in this fantasy reality was suddenly not nearly long enough.


	39. Iron Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.”  
> ― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Lotor returned briefly a couple vargas later to urgently speak with his doppelgänger and to his horror, discovered that son of a motherless goat had Nymuë bound and gagged.

He dragged him to a private room and could barely contain his ire. “Although Nymuë can command a presence to silence a room full of battle-hardened commanders, the one place where she is completely submissive to me is the bedroom. I would strongly caution you not to hurt her, as she will not refuse you.” Though his words were relatively benign, his voice seethed with inflammatory rage. 

“I believe it is time that you joined us, then. Just the right amount of pain can be remarkably pleasurable. Have you never spanked her?”

Lotor was aghast. “No, of course not! I would never...”

“It turns her on.”

Lotor was left staring with his mouth agape for a moment before he regained his composure. “As tantalizing as your ignoble escapades may be, I have an exigent mission to assign to you. Its gravity cannot be understated and it must be executed with absolute precision and subtlety. You cannot disclose the details to anyone, not even to Nymuë.”

As Lotor briefed his identical stand-in, an insidious plot was simultaneously being hatched in darkened quarters.

“Zethrid, Ezor, I believe I have something that may be of benefit to you, for the right price, of course,” says a shadowy figure.

“Yeah, we’re listening,” replies Ezor nonchalantly. 

“I will offer you any planet within the Empire to rule if you assist me in one small task to secure the throne.”

“Name your price then,” Zethrid replies gruffly.

“It has come to my attention that Emperor Lotor has a great weakness. It seems he is in love with a mongrel weakling of a human.”

“How do you know that?”

“He was foolish enough to disclose that information to a now compromised spy I had within the empire.”

“What do you want us to do then?”

“You are going to capture and use her as bait. Then we will poison him with a deadly nerve agent from her own home world. There is no antidote that exists out here and it kills within twenty dobashes. I will then torture her in front of his eyes as he dies slowly.”

“Are you only asking us out of desperation? Your entire fleet was destroyed by Lotor,” asks Ezor suspiciously.

“It was a necessary sacrifice. Those fools are now going to let down their guard because they think I’ve been incapacitated. Victory is as good as mine.”

“When you put it that way, I guess we have a deal,” says Zethrid.

If Lotor had told Nymuë of his conversation with Commander Thrakol, she may have been able to foresee this amoral and perverted scheme but as it stands, Lotor never mentioned anything about it to her.


End file.
